IÂ can whack things with my axe,
Let them spew over my board;
Though I'd rather stack some Wrath,
I am not above the sword.
If the truth is what you'd like,
Don't you dare ask for my pike;
I don't care for knives that rend,
with my fists is how I'll end.
Let them spew over my board;
Though I'd rather stack some Wrath,
I am not above the sword.
If the truth is what you'd like,
Don't you dare ask for my pike;
I don't care for knives that rend,
with my fists is how I'll end.