Servants of the Divine light
Tolerate morning, noon and night
Forgiveness sought for this might

Limitless power
Uncontrollable anger
Souls as wager

Half-dead corpses
Drawn are their last few breaths
Woeful yet meaningful deaths

Mangled bodies crawling in agony
Seeketh they,
Riddance from their misery

Thus our reason for being
Born from the darkness within

To souls wicked and poor alike,
Be it moments of war or peace
We offer release
By the sword and the pike