Rain beat upon the parade of soulless drones
Through whom all that is profane would be restored;
While the pious slept secure in their tithe-funded thrones,
We sang the spells of life through death as the queen rescored.
With blights visited upon the holy land for which we would atone,
We rendered death upon the congregations, feasting as they mourned.

We carved the ciphers of our ruination
Upon the bones of traitors to our nation.
We fixed the eye of our own people's hatred
Upon the ones by whom our gospel's abated.

“Birthed of the womb of a wraith this world is entombed in a dream.
Your withered mind can't separate illusion from reality.”
The ruse imprints itself within their feeble minds,
a tired hymn of lies compounded by time.

“I subjugate the willing wretches
obscuring prophecies of paradise lost
as their autonomy is threatened
by the ones who claim the will of god.”

We'll never die, We live to undermine.

As I am worn by the beating of the rocks against my feet,
we're met with silence as we all pray silently for our release.
It deafens me, robs me of air to breathe
as I'm reassured that my gifts of damnation were received.

In momentary triumph I forget my place,
dispensable puppet of hatred seeking faith.
I revel in the prospect of the honor I've displayed
in tempting the devotion of the ones who share my fate.

“Birthed of the womb of a wraith this world is entombed in a dream.
Your withered mind can't separate Illusion from reality.”

Indoctrinated by the lure of primitive joys,
my brothers speak now with the sound of one voice.

“I subjugate the willing wretches
obscuring prophecies of paradise lost
As their autonomy is threatened
by the ones who claim the will of god.”

We'll soon run out of time, We can no longer thrive.