In the days of their valor. i have stirred the hearts of men
Only now can they see, that i am the withered hand of death.
None live who believe in the god that bore them.
Standing, casting my show upon the face of this world.
The eyes lit in the dark, wreathed in flame, searing the flesh of those abroad.
Carry a vision of humanity maimed, the gift of the forgiving god.
Wake up in a river of tears and lies, fed me in the bound thousand years, i arise.
In these chains cast of iron, forged by the will of the wise.
I've foreseen my rebirth, as the desolate one.
We see those who stand behind, locked gates at heavens walls.
In the brewing storm, written in blood are the gospels of the world to come.
In this moment that none but i can see, behind the walls lie the souls we seek.
Veiled in darkness, the hours pass us by.
In the brewing storm, we face death.
I'm appointed by the one who fell so long ago.
His gift was left to me and in turn i gave the souls of humanity.
