We lose – there is no victor Black blood once our reward Of rape we imbibe – come war Summoned by pale orators, The fatuous masses roar And glutted they feed the flames
Cull our fate, the shifting shapeless shade The reigning hands remain unstayed These days of waste and waiting blades The latent blaze betrays its face
Raise, raise up your hands in plea Entreating God that he might see The wretchedness of all All but thee The writing on the wall What will be will be Black tendrils now call Us from the sea The pride upon the fallen What will be will be The trumpeting of storms The swarm consumes the inkish foam Burning the hole to the unknown
Great the waste, the rubble laying the Scape, the weight of crawling nothing Await the rains, torrents won’t wipe Away remains – the clay of hubris
A desiccated hull The star that’s lost its will As hungry feed the full Swallowing the poison pill Making mantic all our blind Leveling the crooked lines Knowing mercy as divine There’ll be no sympathy this time Our roads have all been swept away The gnawing embrace of decay
No stone unturned No bone unburned No grain unchurned No neighbor unspurned No flag unfurled One riddle answered
(Visit the interior parts of the earth, therein you shall find the hidden stone)Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
