---

In my discontent

With the blood and tears of men

I confronted the prophet

Demanding answers

And he replied

I predict not the storms

Nor fire bleeding from mountains

But I knew of their imminence

You will weep

Drink deep from the fountain

Until your ruin comes

I remember home

Treacherous stair-stepped path

And as my hope died

Magic abandoned me

Now discordant winds

Blow me through firelight

My age ending

Witness this sobering dawn

You will weep

Drink deep from the fountain

Until your ruin comes

Antiqui colant antiquum dierum

Quo fata ferunt

Wicked gray plumes

And apocalypse upon us

The vanguard of despair

I tread toward the inevitable

Dirt and dried tears

Nothing matters anymore

World reduced to charred memories

My last inconsequential steps

So I weep

As I drink from the fountain

I am in ruins

And now forsaken

The fountain dried and crumbling

Prophecy come to be

I will thirst for my last days