There’s a leather-bound book somewhere in this world or the next
Where in gracious letters of dark red blood or gleaming gold
Are written all the things I’ve done since the day I was born
All the sins I have committed and all the oaths betrayed,
And there, on the final page, as the end is being drawn
Lies in a single word my fate, so dark and so painful.
I am no saint, ’tis the truth, and never have I been hexed,
I am no brave white knight like those in the stories of old,
Nothing but pure evil, monster full of hate, full of scorn!
My destiny was accursed for from the path I had strayed
Into the twisted old shadows long before my first dawn,
Never before had the world seen existence so baneful.