Harlot with repel voice
Sings the discord
Fanatics' glory shine
The beacon of exile
Pallid sun fill the sky
Reign down fever, deteriorate
What was will never be
Sea of bodies, infinity
Cold gleam of stars
On surface of the dead
Onyx vermins crawl
The fetid piles of flesh
Ash reduced to ash
Eye torn for the eye
Desolate wind roam
Monuments of the past
Not religions
Or evolved thought
Were the saviour
From the one in rags
Solar flame fades away
Ghastly tomb floats the space
Ravenous light vaporize
Exhalation of mass graves