Best of all Rippers

תחושתי

Hot steam rises from fallen bodies
As you kneels by the front door
Soaking it with only one word,
Painted with the blood you harvested

Let the Dove Fly Again

מחאה

On my way to Jerusalem
To mourn, to cry and to beg,
The road is winding up the tree-covered mountains,
And through the pines' needled branches

The Counties of Fear and Grief

חלום

as I feel my blood pulling like been magnetized
to the steel blade of her knife,
and her black hair is like a beacon
against the pale, white, evil moon