Rise
The whispering winds
They bear secrets
And deep in our veins we grieve
The days are delusion
The nights stretch into abyss
And sometimes, I feel I can hear…
From behind a curtain of velvet
Draped in smoke, whispers demand:
“Let it be done”
Decrees from furtive gods
History defeated, the trembling of earth:
“Let it be done”
Bred like beasts
We may not ascend, captive cognition
Deus ex machina, the slyest interference
All they ask is unwavering ignorance
A sacrifice to dominance
We cry to our savior, as fate seals with wax:
“Samael, open your book”
But the marionette cannot stir alone
And so it goes
The meek and the strong meet the same fate
All is forgotten and their words become flesh
Their sun remains atop the sky eternally;
It shall never set upon the necromancion age
