...Iron gates, twisted and broke offering no protection. Alone, crouched down in pouring rain behind a cross. The heavens roar as the horsemen approach to avenge their smouldering church, desecrate and shed all traces of a false and ambiguous cult. Liberation, from the forces of evil disguised as light. Chanting aloud from the tomb of the dead, I rise a weary army marching out into the terrain, inhale weak christians. The black smoke weakens your burning church to ash...