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Blankets of ash I have seen the skies fall
Grasping myself do I live or do I die?
Befriending the dirt as I go from a walk to a crawl
Murder the people the meek are the first
Spare none the children they're weakest of all
The campaign isn't finished he's not satisfied
The will to die and will to give.

Wartorn and whore-born
Quiet as the orphan voices speak to the bastard
Cut from brimstone is the devil's foul horn
Silence entrenches as the sun dims faster.

Drawbridge brought down on countless men
Escapes the valiant soul, diminished are their hapless bodies
Luminous human flesh pierced by unholy shines
As they bring in the black book the people shout, "our home is lost!"
Wives hit their knees stricken with second thoughts
Men forcing their comfort through a passage so vile
Forcing a story that twists the truths they know
Spires of madness tower once gorgeous skies
Spawning a future in hand-crafted states of chaos.

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