The phial is heavy in his hand, and he cannot look away...
Heavy in his hand as he studies the liquid within, and he cannot look away...
The liquid within swirls black and amber, and he cannot look away...
Swirls black and amber and full of visions, and he cannot look away...
Full of visions of death and killing, and he cannot look away...
Death and killing, and his heart trembles and laments, but he cannot look away...
What he cannot see, for he cannot look away, is the handful of horsemen that follow.
Their ponies are short and strong, and they themselves are short as strong boys and wiry as bowstrings.
They have waited a long time...
The phial is heavy in his pocket...
It is so close, and he can feel its yearning...
Hurry cowardly and shrinking one
Subservient and appeasing one hurry
There is no time for your waitings your watchings
Your writings and your askings hurry
I have waited and watched long enough
Watched and waited for the one who would come
The one who would come from across the sea
From across the sea bearing the blood of my blood
Blood must be had blood and killing
Blood and killing and I am so close
I am so close and I must return
The Masked One the Hand of Death must return
Must return and I am so close
Hurry killer
