1. |
Crystal Cloak of Denial
07:08
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A gift from the wolf, The cloak of denial. A fools promise of strength. It hangs heavy in battle, And does not conceal. The fool knows not, And marches on. Emboldened by ignorance, Blow by blow, His men's blood is spilled. Soaking the field, Where they once stood. Yet the fool marches on, with his prideful grin. Believing in the protection, Of the Cloak of Denial. The wolf sits high above, Atop a cliff. For he sees all, That the fool cannot. Too weak to look back, To gaze upon, The broken bodies. Though he deeply knows, His doom is nigh. He marches on, With his ignorant grin. Believing in the protection, Of the Cloak of Denial
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2. |
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Rising Sun, Everything Has Burned. Heedless warnings, Proud fools. A vision ignored, Once foretold. The owl flies high above, And sees it all. Reduced to ash, Bodies face down, Blood soaked earth, Feeding the void. Listless men, Heads cupped in hands, Crying out, To the dead. Children of the fallen. Wander Aimless. Clutching bones, and overcome with dread. Their light snuffed out. As they slept. Owing their darkness, To deaf fools. Rising sons, Burning with grief. Gather the remaining, And pluck their hearts, From their chests. One by one, They fall. Overcome with regret, He stares in their eyes. (He sees) no more tears. Only wrath. The cracking of bone, And torrent of blood, hearken a new day.
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3. |
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Across burning sands, Wayward, bloodied and lost. Driven from the land, Where we buried our dead. Into the unknown, Marching towards the mountains. Chased by beasts. In search of fertile ground, To start anew. Free from the terrors, Of bloodthirsty demons. The owl guides us forth, The shaman sees, And the warrior protects. The Gilded Serpents, Lie in wait, To warn the winged beasts, Unto our arrival.
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4. |
Miserable Dominion
06:46
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Hear their drums. Their joyous call for death. (The) Shimmering gate lies in ruin. Destroyed by winged men. Crush Kill Destroy Smoldering ash And blackened sky, Left in their trail, Of doom. Crush Kill Destroy Buzzing of insect wings And plagues of beasts. Seething. Arrows fly over head. Man & Beast drop dead. Their calls for death have been (answered) Their wicked love of death hath been returned. The valley now thick with smoke, And the stench of rotting beast. The few that remain Return to the gate, To lie in wait, For their terrible return.
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Obscene Liar California
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