Feast of Plagues

Where grief-swept desolation a carnal stench purveys Proud men, long due, agony's come... scream freely in your pain Impending doom's begun winter's left you frail Stricken, ravaged, one and all, infertile as the soil No dawn shall sanctify No light could pierce the choking sky Cast down – cold, lifeless eyes Leprous hands kneading feverish deeds Bow to famine, crawl as vermin, become filth and disease Envenomation, writhe to decimation, numb to prayer and plea Bent to hail infection's throne Broken men soon pale and cold On your knees, fall prey to the grave Festering in bodies thrown on blood-stained red, cold cobblestone Death here walks in many shapes, with shadows long and horror known A wretched mare I ride upon to conquer the weakened ones Hearken, in pestilence, my cold touch on quivering lips No dawn shall sanctify No light could pierce the choking sky Cast down – cold, lifeless eyes Leprous hands kneading feverish deeds I am famine, I am vermin, devouring flesh and earth Infestation, expurgation, all shall succumb Charred bones construct my throne Soon the sickened rasps will be your own Where wind swept burial mists to stir miasmic rage Condemned in funeral flesh, the damned are many where you lay The great cold Death, come for your last breath In your dying gasps you shall denounce your faith I bring famine. I bring vermin. I am filth and disease. No dawn shall sanctify No light will pierce the choking sky Cold, empty stares – lifeless eyes No prayers will yield relief