Gods of Old

Dancing beneath the moonlit skies, a fire's glow among the masses. Voices ring with descants from the past, a pulse so strong it can move The Mother.

A shift in the wind.

The whispers of the ancient trees, reminds us of our roots, and histories. A march felt through the sacred grove, brought tales of arrogance and violation.

Steel-clad with scriptures in their hands, a mission of conversion across the lands. Intruders seeking a holy expanse, as swords and crosses in shadows advance.

With zeal and arms raised up high, in the name of God, they reached for the sky! Temples fell and villAges burned, impaled, and slaughtered unless they convert.

Eyes ablaze, a thirst for gain.

Darkness descends, erasing the gods of old. Muted laments, erasing the gods of old.

Twisting, turning, forests burning. A trail of corpses bore witness to the march.

Haunting cries wail, defeat prevails. For miles you could hear the screams!

Death's symphony plays.

The sacred, concealed.

A truth denied, erasing the gods of old.Til the times change, and we erase your god.