Rise.
A sentence given, to the afflicted living,
it's where
the darkness allows me to overthrow
any King of the
kind,
(Chorus) and for this I sought the choir to sing
aligned.
My wrath becomes mine and the signs we summon
(the enigmatic music still plays).
Sit in the blistering throne,
and take it in.
This has gone way past the
ideals of sin, as I perform reprisal making it an
eternal war.
Betrayed.
Blood is running down my arms;
the same arms I used to
vanquish her dreams
(vanquishing dreams is just and comforting).
"I am not ready to kill to save myself from regret,"
I claimed until I was betrayed.
(Chorus)
"Down the sacred chambers the embers roar.
Regret pours into the
inner cavity of my core, and I soar"
I take flight.
From below I see the blazing throne;
from below I hear the tortured soul.
The Curse of the
Millennia awaits me.
Why can't I breathe?
It's pounding on my confines.
A mallet placed in a roaring
god's hands
(pummeling the ground, and pummeling my face)
Seismic waves obliterate my skull
blasting my soul
with a wretched sound.
No longer found by this ill
fate, a mark embraced by the Hordes,
I'm birthed into this world.
I've come to murder my Lord
(I can almost taste...).