Skies are lit with fire and ash. Laying waste to all of man. Barren wasteland, end of soul. Profits turn to dust, prophets turn to gold. Arise tormentor of man light the path as we descend. Kingdom free from infidel. Pray for heaven. For them we pray for hell. Humanity is growing cold, now we see the calf of gold. Watch them kneel, watch pockets grow. Caring for noone but crying for all. They burn, alone.
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