Followers led to rot among their waste
A putrid path of
Descending from the night sky, a shimmering tint of gold.
Glass taints the surface where gods cry and souls decay.
Like a thousand plagues over my soul and the smell
Asphyxiated by hidden hands of existence
United by this plague
A thousand
Awakened by the dawn of a new age
Rebirth in lands
Has history taught us nothing but repetition of failure?
Do the
Around your neck is where my hands are headed to
Years weigh upon years
And each passing day will serve
As a
An image of me beneath my grave what's gone wrong
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