Eight famous heads Hung on my belt I start my march again (Better degrade you flowers now) Seven glamourous eyes Shining in my faces I am the winter of your world Six forbidden tomes I've studied for years Three times they burnt in my heart Five arms I've prepared To paint the destruction With flesh and blood on the wood Four of fools I met I told them perfect lies I'm your most suitable truth Three I'll raise to square Signing it three times And then you'll beg inverted Two prisoners I'll release Condemned at one The only Flower which will survive Preying on myriad of bodies