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I scorch these plains, I yield the crown of the apocalypse

Burning through what once was you to free my yearning soul

Yet with this seal, seventh past, my head is lowered still

Ashamed by waste you have left behind with careless indulgence

So draw the swords, four at once, hope is banished

Loose the cries on desert winds to wash this ash away

Serpents sway with glee, this final charming call, gain their trust

Then strike with vengeance and befriend them as they fall

The venom coursing through their bodies

Weak and frail, now gone

But spirits rise to scream once more

Afterlife has come

Failed decree to crush the free, wanderers of the barren dune

They will always stand, passion's strength may earn my empathy

Respect the valor, through foolish pride, to face my blade of plague

Bleeding honor stains the sands which scatter vanity

Desperation utters forth soft whimpers

Power has lost its meaning derived

I refuse to spare this selfish breed

With its indecency and hollowed remains

Visionary men and gods are proven false

Warriors are slaves, shed of bindings

Populace has freed us to reign

Mounting our steeds to continue on

To spread heavenly carnage

Across this rumored holy land

Praise wasting dreamers cower on sight of Christ in retreat

To spare his second life