Silver swords descending
Toward a sleeping figure,
Slicing through their soul’s membrane
Till their body cedes to rigour:

Silently slicing through the cord
That keeps the soul in place;
So that a creeping look of death
Comes ‘pon a sleeping face.

Night soldiers are killing
Innocents as they sleep,
To take them from their dreaming
Into a dream where faces peep:

Faces of the foully killed
Peer into the land of the living,
Hoping to escape the land of death
When a new soul cord is riven.

Silent soldiers creeping
From the land of the dead,
To steal the life of the sleeping
As their souls are sorely bled.

Night armies marching
Into the living world once more,
Fighting mighty battles
From the days of yore.