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In the throes of death
I walk, observe
The threat of a raised bow
And the rumblings of famine
Asphyxiated by the aroma of pestilence

Sore Upon Sore
Behold the riders of loss
Who herald the first death
Sent to murder all that breathe

All will be strung in hunt
Like wild boar
Slain!

Behold the crowned usurper treading in conquest
The sword wielding terror arming the sons of Cain
The wraith of hunger spoiling all sustenance
Guided by Death’s hand
Adorned in robes of hellfire

Sore Upon Sore
Behold the riders of loss
Who herald the first death
Sent to murder all that breathe

The seals are torn open
A reward for mankind’s idolatry
The rape of self
Spiritual whoredom!

Both rich and poor shall flee
Seeking refuge and will have no fill
By the words of the four beasts
Servants of the One, they call true!

Sore Upon Sore
Behold the riders of loss
Who herald the first death
Sent to murder all that breathe

As they hid in the mountains
They shook in their flesh and aching bone
Crying for Death
But He would not come
Hail, hail the coming judgment!

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