The Heretic's Age

Soiled hands of work, to pit a

Nations Fall

Skeletal hands upon the coffers of the

Old World

Ghosts of

Men, re-writing history

Red ink, from the well of

Martyrdom

Words to drip from the

Traitors Tongues

Waging a War between the

Crimson lines

The Old Heart of the

Earth Divided, poisoned, ready for the fall

Valiant Men, made to wear the

Devils Mask

The Scapegoats for a

New Age Such words will bear the

Fruit of Flesh (Today's Innocence),

Tomorrows

Finger on the

Trigger So, who

Heralds the

Grace of Fallen

Empires? Hymns to the

Ruination of

Majesty He who inherits the

Dark Crown of ill will

The Scorn of those deemed

Righteous

Men The Gauntlet thrown,

The Baton tossed

By Statute, by

Law, by Divine

Decree Impositions as

Kindling to the fire

The Old Heart is beating, with

Ancient Blood [A history passed through generations, through the ravages of time and falsity of spirit, blood remains and the circle remains unbroken, the answer to the future lays in the not too distant and dim past, and as we lay waste to the naysayers and cut the traitors tongues from their very mouths of spectre of history shall loom from the past enriched with the Blood of our Ancestors to pass judgement...]