The Maiden of Death

I kiss her lips and mine form a smile,
But Cupid's arrow has a poison tip
The soul of peace is forced in exile.

Tears fall from crimson eyes all the while,
And veins trickle little by little - drip.
I kiss her lips and mine form a smile.

Dressed all in red, it's her unique style -
The same color of fire and her whip.
The soul of peace is forced in exile.

The taste of her tongue on mine is vile -
Act as if I like it; don't let truth slip.
I kiss her lips and mine form a smile.

A dove falls dead and I grow hostile.
Anger and torment, I must get a grip.
The soul of peace is forced in exile.

Goodbye dear lady, it's been worthwhile,
But I must go now, show me to my ship.
I kiss her lips and mine form a smile.
The soul of peace is forced in exile.