Cut Finger & Serpent Servants

I see no other option but to cut the finger
Come here, boy! Come here!
How old are you?
The boy raises a five-finger hand
Well, not anymore!
chop

Closed the room door with weeping eyes
Of the serpents on the pedestal
The fresh flesh in a piece of rag
It is marked with the word celestial

Being a Jack-of-all-trades, he sacs the head
And he cleans the bloody floor
As the beloved wife’s head rolls out of the bag
Smashing the wooden door

A cry from deep guts
Spread an echo waking
The eyeless serpents
Crumbling the marble statue
Rising the reptile servants

I say…
Who is that man, hatchet in hand
Who is that man, hatchet in hand
Who’s that man, hatchet in hand
Who’s that man, hatchet in hand

He is the killer, one of the servants
He is the killer, one of the servants
He is the killer, one of the servants
He is the killer, one of the servants