The Funeral March

These black clouds above
Will never go away
No light will penetrate
No gift from a fallen God
Will satisfy, hungry rabid wolves

The dark lord is with us, inside every living monster
Embrace the warmth of evil
Bow your heads to the slaughter

The end is held in unfortunate delay
So we suffer
Malevolent longing
A hunger growing
A sermon delivered by seething lepers

Marching ants to step on
The grand delusion we swallow in sickness and longing

A shattered skull to sleep on
Enough to shake the pain for a feeble second
Burning bodies lay cold as they face the burning sun

Screaming for exile
A sentenced belonging