The art of barter has no affect on the heart of a martyr.
Despite your pride, you’ll fall.
I provide the judgement that’s bestowed upon you all.

Change is no longer enough, we’ve been living in a dream.
Justice measured in blood. Awakened, forsaken, obscene.

Dusk sets on this putrid place.
Where even the sun can’t cleanse the shadows.
I awaken to the nocturne.
The unforgiving blackness that encircles these winding streets.

Looking back there must be something that we missed.
Fixating on bliss, blinded to the risk, oblivious.

The art of barter has no affect on the heart of a martyr.
Despite your pride, you’ll fall.
I provide the judgement that’s bestowed upon you all.

Dusk sets on this putrid place.
Where even the sun can’t cleanse the shadows.
I awaken to the nocturne.
The unforgiving blackness that encircles these winding streets.
By dawn this world will know my face.
The moon sets light to the waiting gallows.
I retire as I burn the ever raging fires that illuminate my hellish deeds.

Bare witness to the vivid images of this wicked sickness.
Where innocence is stripped in guilt and filled with filth and ignorance.

We spend our time meeting the demands of the unknown.
Unaware of the hollow calls, exploiting your own home.

Dusk sets on this putrid place.
Where even the sun can’t cleanse the shadows.
By dawn this world will know my face.
The moon sets light to the waiting gallows.

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