Axe wielding maniac

As he vanishes in forsake
The strangling winds are blowing
and the poet has ran out of words
in this almighty void, she unveils a sacred smile

I'm going blind, I'm falling asleep
My desire is to be no more
Not to be is what I want to be
I feel dead, I'm going to collapse

Time to perish, puss swallower
A tribute to the unborn, your burnt remains
Thrown away by the mighty spect to the
snake's pit, where you shall eternally dwell

Among the snakes, your executioner roams restless
His only arm wields the axe of tribute
and even after a rush of his huge ferocity
you will never know the peace of death

Such is your curse, son of Bascania
Unless...