clocks change to the beckoning hour of our mortality,
his name is said to be the premise of our
demise.
slow descent to hell.
they heave out their insides with each forward step
marching them closer towards hell.
he leads them one by one to dystopic depths,
burning out their lungs with
every gasping breath.
caught in eternal reign,
your god has failed.
torn gates wheeze in aching skin with scorching bone.
the beast inside awaits,
no one saves us.
the dead exhume and swallow the sky.
we are brought here as cowards
left to die.
we see the end
before our eyes.
this is the fall
fall of all men.
shaking the ground; he draws near,
devouring what's left.
torn husks remain;
pleading for death, wrapped in ash
their limbs astray,
welcome.
there will be nothing left (x4)