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Blankets of ash I have seen the skies fall

Grasping myself do I live or do I die?

Befriending the dirt as I go from a walk to a crawl

Murder the people the meek are the first

Spare none the children they're weakest of all

The campaign isn't finished he's not satisfied

The will to die and will to give.

Wartorn and whore-born

Quiet as the orphan voices speak to the bastard

Cut from brimstone is the devil's foul horn

Silence entrenches as the sun dims faster.

Drawbridge brought down on countless men

Escapes the valiant soul, diminished are their hapless bodies

Luminous human flesh pierced by unholy shines

As they bring in the black book the people shout, "our home is lost!"

Wives hit their knees stricken with second thoughts

Men forcing their comfort through a passage so vile

Forcing a story that twists the truths they know

Spires of madness tower once gorgeous skies

Spawning a future in hand-crafted states of chaos.