The Executioner - Vainglory, Corbin King

He stares, with eyes, that come from the bowels of hell

He sees, through you, part of his deadly spell

He smiles, he laughs, he checks his tools of death

He asks, «last words?"like it was a gruesome test

Fear the executioner

Damn the executioner

He moves, with grace, like an artist on showcase

He knows, his trade, there is no time to waste

He feels, no guilt, as another life he takes

He shows, no shame, he’s a devil face to face

Fear the executioner

Damn the executioner

His blood, runs cold, like ice from the arctic north

His touch, it burns, with a very intense scorch

His mind, is closed, it might as well be dead

His life, was set, for execution he was bred