"...and they gazed upon the beautiful truth, and knew it was an awful lie..."
Ravage and ruin, their sons and daughters shall die
Discourage us noble spirit, deduct us from this arrogant array
Life, the treacherous servant of death, who stiffens the limbs and freezes the breath
The withering knights of ruinous kingdoms, history betrays, of heathen ways in these last days
Unbolt the heathen forge, the glint of rusted steel be our torch
A scorpion smiles beneath the frozen sand, a venomous stinger awaiting a careless hand
The faded curtains of life, futile in blocking the rays of fate
Under crushed monuments of an infantile God, showers of crimson truth warm the skin
"Tomorrow belongs to no one my child, the secrets of tomorrow lie secret until it is again today.
Life the failure of thy Father, who eagerly did partake, a senseless lust, a mother's grand mistake. In death you will live, everyday wishing to die. No memories to remember, no words to say goodbye. Hold fast today, the ultimate price of life you must one day pay... hide well tomorrow, it belongs to no one you see, hide well tomorrow, it belongs to me."
A sword-point truth unspoken, an awkward reflection in the darkening sky
Idealistic dreamers, visionary warriors and poets of a broken blade
A sacrificial lifestyle, the soldiers to God their lives they gave
Dispute their achievements, a doctrine preaching the grave
Let them marvel at their misdeeds, scolding truth from lies shall save
Surrogate fools of exalted disgrace, adorned in self-devastation
Envious twin, lacking the realization that in our defeat we still shall win
Hands entwined with earthen forge, a yawning abyss, a terrible gorge
Excavated, enraptured past, the star of truth stretches its four arms outward
Silence sings an unending battle cry...
Tomorrow belongs to us, upon this day we shall never die
With splintered mail and broken shield, glory dies on a bloodied field
Paint your lips with their ashes, the rains of death dry a world of mud
A fierce passion existing beneath the skin, a state of adamancy, we will win
A justified hatred, a ravenous scorn , a prejudice for the listless unborn
Languid child, your cradle is very well your grave
Silence your terrified cries, just die and behave...
Wisdom choking, born too early... and far too late
Grieving this lack of sorrow, an emotionless state, the death of tomorrow
Sulk in your paralyzed stupor, your worldly riches will buy you poverty in the grave
After forever, a cynic sneer and a rising breath
Resistance explodes, and life is fed screaming to death.
