Like rats we circle these pits of cold ash
These creaking rustscapes, these dead satanic mines

Sniffing, cloudy-eyed
Scarred hands tracing
Scarred stone slabs
Abscessed tongues tasting ageless rot

What proud funereal lords put torch to these pyres?
What starry-eyed priests blessed these charred shrines?

What curses, what cries, what empty promises
Rose up on the wind and smothered the world like a shroud?
What burned here?

Did these ashes fall from a dead sky
Or rise like a phoenix to tear through the clouds?
Are we tending a grave, or waving goodbye at the edge of black seas of infinity?

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