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I counted the plagues and they were seven

They came down straight from the heavens

They sung the song of God

Fierce, solemn and dark

Their image will last forever

We'll be waiting for them here together

Down to the hole of deceit

A throne made of bones where he sits

Wise is the man who still dreams

The deep universe, bright and gleam

Hands made of silver and gold

Thoughts sounding quite old

Behold! The stars are falling

Unfold! The banner of death

Entwine! The ropes of pain

Divine! The shadow of the end