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Behold the creatures clad in black.

Their mouths are wide open.

Their wings are spread.

They are the children of the heavens.

pale faces turned toward the past.

Cursed are the saints of history,

clinging on to the present, desperately.

All hope has been abandoned, an ancient sacrifice.

A fierce storm blows from a long lost paradise.

Tears fall as we behold the great catastrophe,

piling wreckage upon wreckage

hurling it in front of our feet.

Downfall. Heartbreak.

We ourselves are those figures clad in black!

We are ripped away into the future,

to which we turned our backs.

Desperate screams

lapse into silence.

They went unheard,

here's no defiance.

Flowers forever blooming will start to wilt.

A landscape of ruin wont be rebuilt.

Behold the storm called progress.

Behold this world falling apart.

We are the nothingness. The endless night.

We are the curse. Death triumphant. The eternal blight.

Oh, what a glorious sight! Oh, what a pathetic sight!

What an utterly disgusting sight!