The storm of unlight has arrived
The torn wings of death take their reign
A horn sounds that ruptures the sky
As we clot in our own blood and burn in our fires
The children pale and starved,
Cast into a wilderness of carnivorous beings
Shapeless, thoughtless human figures
Left to wander, as vagrants, in eternal night
Morning never comes
And the dawn never shows its face
The wolf stays awake eternally,
Nocturnal creatures restless
As their howls ascend
Scavengers awake
And the land is left dishevelled and bleak
A haunt of jackals stray the plains
Upon the resting they feast
Screaming from beneath the arid lands
A desert of souls in decay
Rotting below this parched landscape
A thousand collapsed lungs shrieking
Resounding throughout the cavernous valleys
Echoing across a barren waste
The cries, of haunted solitude
Isolated by grief, they cannot be heard
Above the winds of the storm
The storm of unlight has arrived
The torn wings of death take their reign
A horn sounds that ruptures the sky
As we clot in our own blood and burn in our fires
