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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