Samurai X
The bright circle
Rising in the mist
First drip of dew
A shade of light crimson
I've washed my hands
Many, many times
I close my eyes
I sigh
Every breath I take
Is one stolen from those
Who have fallen due to my sword
Waiting silently
Touching the cold metal, so familiar
As is the warm smell and taste of blood
Raining down
Falling from the heavens above
My hands, stained
From my enemies not standing down
With each stroke of my blade
I cut the heart of darkness itself
For those who stand in my way
If your blood runs black
You will feel
The wrath of my sword
Having pierced my own heart
And drenched in my own blood
