A tale of flesh, bone and sinew
And deep wounds stitched into dark words
Amassed, the infinite black knives rake across fields of trespass
Dead, with everlasting dread
Deep sewn into the hearts of ghouls
Doomed with those bleeding upon the altar, exhumed
A sacred, runic world of deathly day
All trapped in the midnight essence
Awaiting forlorn promises from false gods,
Nocturnal shades of arctic glades
Nightfall winter winds of whispering wisdom
Nefarious, the cold undead march, where I alone fought
Blasphemy for the ultimate crassity
Blood spawned from cavernous fiends
Blackened screams to server mortal dreams
Dark deeds to damn dread marks
Defiled corpses, the perpetrators rank with denial
Demonic forces working to annihilate of the universe
©2005 Ian James MacMillan
Masticina Akicta