When you arise to devour this world With your heads and horns, know this: You lost your life the day you were born. I was born the day I died. I die upon my sword rather than bow my knees. I am but a mortal but unlike you I am fireproof in this armour of blood and truth. I know that you will rise from the dead But I would kill you anyway just for the pleasure of the deed. If God will get me close enough I will let my blade drink your filthy blood. I will be the Milos Obilic of the latter days. He who kills with the sword must die upon the sword, I know. But I am from the bloodline of the gentile foreskin and all I rather bleed than fade. A noble death is a treasure. You buy it with your last drop of blood. Samson sold he life for the price Of threescore times a hundred of the foes. If I could die like him in a good age, I would pass with an eternal smile upon my face. Beyond the days I will see you burn, Nothing by a friend nephilim in fire and brimstone. Know that day that I am fireproof in this armour that you refused.