Legion Atrophic
Tight Rope

Dawn, the sanguine sun crests afar.
Our eyes strained to see, as
Wings of carrion obscure the sky,
Salivating at the feast.

Death befell all who stood their ground
Torn apart their bodies befouled
Crushed beneath unrelenting claws
No mercy was shown

Separating the earth
Forasken maw unfolding
The harbinger of the end
Speaks his haunting words

I'm nothing more than a ghost
Now unto me you must absolve your souls
Fear not your fate for again you will rise
This masked illusion will be your demise

All tormented souls begging for death's embrace
Who call to masters now, release our mortal binds.
They writhe in agony for all of eternity.

Eloquent words written in scars inscribe the terrible passings of the battle
Intricate patterns splayed in flesh to appease the ones who guide their hands
Cadaverous facade erected in worship to their demon gods below
Cries of the wicked echo in their halls,
The deathsong in their ears.

Marching forth through winter's grasp
Their withering lives wrought from their hands
All they held close
A fading thought of what was once their souls
Breathing stops burning hearts turning cold.

Dusk, the sanguine sun sets afar
Our eyes bleeding see
Wings of carrion take to the sky
Salivating at the feast.

Skeletal lord forces his will upon those with the weakened mind
Waiting once again to rise at his call to take up arms.

Now they wait at his word
Hilts held in deadened clutch.


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