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Below the Soils

de October Falls

The tide's rising, collapsed mountains of ideals ahead
The arts of honourless martyrs the tongoues of nation's decay
Fleshless bearers of faded credence, scarred for the north.

From gallows to stained culture, to the piles of flesh in raging pyres
Onset for the future, the hives of usueless shells in fire
The burial mounds of ash, the horns chime for the end.

Like a scent of autumn's decay filling the air
The traitor's of manking fading to ashes, smouldering away
A thousand voices chanting for tomorrow, idealistic flames ablaze.

Mongrels for apostate daughters, the husks among the grains
The weeds from honourless fathers, to root and absord
And a thousand mouths screaming for hope
The burden of false ideals haning in ropes.

The surface of each trembles, crumbles beneath the scarred bare feet
Above the corpus vermin, lays the stench of the spiritual decease
A scarred north, buried beliefs, empty words ahead.

An emotional winter, the oblivian rises as devotion crumbles above the fall.

A cultural wsteland, a stupor of blood and honour
The pallbearer of hoe, prognosis devours
The bones of owls thrown to the soil of stained lands
And the pyres of oblivion illuminate the demise.

Horns of the wintry mountains screaming thorugh winds
The wolves shall rise from the ruins of yesterdays.

The primitive statues, monoliths of thoughts carved in bones and flesh
Shocking the core of the human nature and shattering the ideals of mankind.

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