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The die is cast. Hate returns out of the past.

The haunts of the last days remain

as scornful thorns in the surviving elements

Screaming in lines of birthing-blood

Screaming in so-called virgin lands

We’ve crossed the event horizon

as a child forced through divine thighs.

Hands clasped round the lighting rod

hatred coursing through our veins.

Fellow warriors, our victory comes from within!

Your past ablaze - smoldering remains

The die is cast. Hate returns out of the past.

Nothing shall remain of your soul, so woebegone and still.

To wonder, have you found your Rubicon?

And to look upon those carrion hands, so fixed to kill, laced in blood

Have you tried...have you even tried to cross it?

There is a revolution. The die is cast.

Have you found your Rubicon?

Have you tried...have you even tried to cross it?