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