Zak Pearce Biography

Gnarled bark and bitter leaf
Guard well the forest deep
And by the thorns, their tearing teeth
The shadows like to skulk and creep.
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Let rip the dogs of war!
And loose the rattling guns
Charge head into the gaping maw
'Till blood on the battlefield runs.
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Thum-dum rolls the drum
Beating the beat of marching men
Thum dum rolls the drum
How many men will march again
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Late one night I lay awake,
The storm it battered and blew,
When suddenly, over the lake,
A strange thing flew.
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Red is blood, sweet Aphrodite.
And weak is the flesh that it feeds
For this I beg of thee: unsmite me!
Passion is red; and so is the heart that it bleeds.
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