---

Our joy and hope, paradies even

Reside always in the future to come

Or in the past painted by ports

But the days we walk through

Are always covered in the thickest fog

Never ending is the lust

To fill the void residing in our hearts

And the rewards for this stride

Is to live and want more

The will of life manifesting in myriad forms

Coming down from the purest spirit

To the lowest vermin

And we are not let to die in it

Ours is the eternal return

Driven back by its hunger

Even when we starve for nought

We’ll drown in the endless stream of crime

Committed by both friend and woe alike

For there is no experience, ill or well

That unsatiable whore wouldn’t crave for

Our dreams are the same

The heat and fear consumes us

Dissappointment and resentment is our lot

As we chase the phantasmagoria

Ours is the constant strife

Through these fields of sorrow

We are bound at the point

Where the skies meet the soil

At the place of the skull

We root out the cross of the failed men

And plant our feet to meet the heavens

The king jew’s blood

Was never to sit well with us

Chaos reigns and in ashes is our future

We’ll climb the hill of rubble and bone

Never letting hope enter our hearts

As we behold the vast grey steppers