The vigor in my soul won't stand for this anymore.
The potency that is my being
is far from ruin,
far from silence,
far from death.

With severed legs I'd walk
with intent to prosper
a body plauged with sickness
and still I'd
dare to dream
for I can breathe.
My blood is fire
and I bleed life.

My blood is fire! (... for this!)
My blood is fire and I bleed life!

The defeatest is dead.
No, no remorse
for that man who died.
A sad bitter man
whose contempt for himself
exceeded his contempt for the world.

No remorse for those who chrushed in spirit;
a sad bitter lot whose lack of insight
left a man broken,
left many broken.
The disenchanted
led by the frightened, only blessed
with the absence of respect.
A world enslaved by itself
but one was reborn to conquer.

I climb to the crest (conquer!)
and strive to climb higher.

At the core of my being (forgotten!)
is vitality that will not die.
My blood is fire and I bleed life.

I bleed, I bleed life.

The potency that is my being
is far from ruin,
far from silence,
far from death.

My blood is fire!
My blood is fire!

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