Eternally the grim fog sets, to rouse from
|
a slumber of centuries, screams of malediction
|
emanate when diabolical procreation overshadows the meek.
|
|
Crumbling fall the statues of Icons
|
As the infernal deluge consumes the
|
Landscape, entwined in thorns paralyze
|
weltering mortality, quickly sinking below the
|
molten sea.
|
|
The winged tyrant took flight
|
Apocalypticus weaves its trance
|
|
The faceless wolves roam unbridled to exsistence
|
Chilling winds of the Anu befall all conceived
|
Brandished by nightfall smother blooming hope
|
Profane hooves thunder across the ravaged plains
|
|
Chaos blleds from the eye on the throne,
|
Chasms billowing stench of the kingdom
|
that once ruled, seven, horrid and soulles. A hunger for
|
mortals, their frenzy unfolds.
|
Forever banish to the heaving underworld pits,
|
Quetly flow the river Styx.
|
|
-----------------
|
Iconoclasm Disintegrates The Flower Of Mortality
|
| Withered Earth |
