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The darkest miasma of ash is rising overhead

There the farthest planes were crossing

Their borders within the skin of Earth

Apocalyptic alchemy started to run

As the eternal Antagonist ascended himself

Over the vaporized landscapes

The primitive cauldron has been boiling

Since even cosmic prison was too young,

And became a womb of the last tragedy

Feasting on the festering gardens of stars

Wild Hunt is blowing up the paradigms

Through the valleys of volcanic ash

Riding the chariots made of obsidian

On the winds of emboldening vapours

Look how the world wither and die

One thousand more cadavers for the cart

No one shall paint this junk again

World we left behind, dazed and stoned

Under the scab of volcanic ash