I scorch these plains, I yield the crown of the Apocalypse
Burning through what once was you to free my yearning soul
Yet with this seal, seventh past, my head is lowered still
Ashamed by waste you have left behind with careless indulgence
So draw the swords, four at once, hope is banished
Loose the cries on desert winds to wash this ash away
Serpents sway with glee, this final charming call, gain their trust
Then strike with vengeance and befriend them as they fall

The venom coursing through their bodies
Weak and frail, now gone
But spirits rise to scream once more
Afterlife has come

Failed decree to crush the free, wanderers of the barren dune
They will always stand, passion's strength may earn my empathy
Respect the valor, through foolish pride, to face my blade of plague
Bleeding honor stains the sands which scatter vanity

Desperation utters forth soft whimpers
Power has lost its meaning derived
I refuse to spare this selfish breed
With its indecency and hollowed remains
Visionary men and gods are proven false
Warriors are slaves, shed of bindings
Populace has freed us to reign
Mounting our steeds to continue on
To spread heavenly carnage
Across this rumoured holy land
Praise wasting dreamers cower on sight of Christ in retreat
To spare his second life