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Under clouds of Godless skies, the state of nature is taking shape
As the storm of instinct churns, painted heavens fade away,
When the truth begets a lie, who will save our splintered lives?
When the soul is nevermore, will we rise above the void?

Is this life our meaningless fate
A pointless succession of days?

With only what the world conceives
Man, alone, and nothing more
Survival of our will is fought
In empty, cold eternity
In days devoid of afterlife
The time of man is put to test

Now we must find our way
Aimlessly through this dark maze
No guides or watchful eyes
Help us to find our purpose

To live alone and die alone
As seeds upon this earthly tree
Where final judgment is man's ideal
And divination a fading dream.

The human game, overtly clear
survive or self-annihilate
For those as pawns become the kings
The board is set: now make your move

Is this life our meaningless fate
A pointless succession of days?

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