Terminus Est

The shadow hovers o'er us, old and long
Its power fuligin and vast
Tradition slithers 'round us
Like serpent's coils it's bound us
Bound us to the shadow of the torturer's mask

An ancient place the one I have and hold
An ancient lesson I do learn
Our job to slay the people
Our place to do the evil
"Pity the poor prisoners, may the torturers burn!"

We must not sway beneath our heinous work;
Compassion is the greatest crime
I take one life in kindness
They damn me for my blindness
And I'll bear that stigma 'till the end of my time

Her memories haunt me when I'm most alone;
No longer can I see the right
Unwilling penance claws me
Conciliation draws me
Into my grim future, into Urth's blackest night

The sword of this sad lictor of uncounted deaths can tell
Her blade marks the division between living death and Hell

So as I journey toward a hated post
Despair is in her finest hour
Upon God's path must I tread
My fate to make and raise dead
Wielding like a sword an old and Urth-saving power

If I but knew the use of what I've learned
Some hope might override my strife
Can death be so appalling?
Humanity is calling
Me to be their Savior at the risk of my life

While I must sow the Death from which a new sun must rise