Smoke billows in acrid plumes that Shroud the sun Over fields now draped in embers Fate has won On the Plains of Abaddon On the Plains of Abaddon Vanquished lies our last defender Known as hope Ghosts of dreams leave broken corpses Hung on ropes On the pit of failure's slopes Fleeting joys bleed from slit throats Fleeting joys bleed from slit throats Pain will swell the stream of sorrows That we cry Must we suffer more tomorrows 'Till we die? Or deny the lies upon Which our schemes enflame our wrongs On the Plains of Abaddon On the Plains of AbaddonTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
