Penance for this breath of black betrayal
Stoic, famished guard the walls of this scarlet temple
Awaits to hear the sound of armies marching underground
And the screams of failures conquest
A wish to waste and rise alone with only the wolves I call my own
A starving withered statue
Amidst the ruins you once knew
Condemned to defend
The weakened flesh of this fa탧ade
From all that breathes and lies within
The vultures swarm and sharpen their talons
Upon wings of torment flying
Who is to say there is no art in dying?
A starving withered statue
Amidst the ruins you once knew
A shrine for the sick to gather
From here to hell, from soulless to shattered
From soulless to shattered.
To destroy and conquer this failure
With a will of sharpened razors
To forget what has been done
And all I have over come
Penance for this breath of black betrayal
Stoic, famished guards the walls of this scarlet temple.
Awaits to hear the sound of armies marching underground
And the screams of failures conquest
Upon wings of torment flying
Who is to say there's no art in dying?