Worm Shepherd - Ragnarok
текст песни

Conflicting paths, an imperceptible continuum through the lens of the population. Unending, frozen fallacy I, the observer, the arbiter, the accuser, the author of quietus, have turned a gaze onto humankind. As the kirk bells deafen, and the sirens scream, their way of life warps my path to clemency. In time you shall realize ascension may only occur with the death of mankind in the palm of my hands. Frozen I must send my horde of flies and ticks across the valleys and up through the streets to chip away at the tissue and cartilage of every survivor and wielder of swords. There is no war a display of unworthy combatants wither before me. It's not a choice the end draws near this is no war. A display of unworthy combatants wither before me. Without a choice, the end draws near. Sweep dust from my motionless hands collected, during cycles of lust. The only movement as of late digging into brimstone, crying tears built upon broken trust. Ominous in nature potential alliances snap at the sight of these dying eyes. Writhe in silence shift my body in the dark I awaken into the void sprinting forward into its inviting mouth cover my wings in soil rip my carcass from the crust, home into the ether's arms. The bell has rung. Echoing across the plains. Engulfing the space between realities. Bravery is futile, the mirror harkens back to the throne of persistent justice chewing through the barriers, to gorge upon the final remnants of absolution. In the wake ov Sòl, at the foot ov the cross, ethereal scrolls ov labyrinthine lore beckons wretchedness upon the gates. Reverberation of hope eclipsed. The maggots consuming the fresh glistening flesh. Unearthly warriors gnawing on the viscera, viciously chomping, and clawing away.