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Crimson at the horizon
The last of the sunset faded
Through orange to yellow
A pale watery red

The souls of hollow men
Perish at twilight's kingdom
Between the idea and the reality
Descends the shadow

Persuaded by the coppice gate
My soul is misguided
The eyes are directed
To this darkness

The birth of him
Brought the end to one civilization
But the end will not ensue
Until the soul is expired

Immortality, stupidity and all of our sins
Polluting our blackened souls
Alive our spirits decaying, painfully without pain
The second coming arise

The end is certain
This populace will fail
His birth completes the cycle
Our soul's living Hell.

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