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
