| The vultures have been waiting
|
| To feast upon their prey
|
| With the vengeance knife
|
| This disdain for life ends today
|
| With grand anticipation
|
| The frail have been stalked
|
| Showing no remorse
|
| This lifeless corpse is forced to rock
|
| A season of starvation is at hand
|
| Has the bastard come to eat me again?
|
| Wasting, lying the famine horde
|
| If we are the nightmare, I am the ten of swords
|
| The temple has been conquered
|
| No more statues gazing on
|
| And this wretched plague of reason’s wrath
|
| Quietly awaits the dawn
|
| Still the threat of starving vultures
|
| Poised for attack, under cold skies, with blinded eyes
|
| I watch my back
|
| A season of starvation is at hand
|
| Has the bastard come to eat me again?
|
| To fall away without fear of emptiness
|
| For it must take great strength to starve
|
| Wasting, lying the famine horde
|
| If we are the nightmare, I am the ten of swords
|
| Still the threat of starving vultures
|
| Poised for attack, under cold skies, with blinded eyes
|
| I watch my back, with grand anticipation
|
| The frail have been stalked
|
| Showing no remorse
|
| This lifeless corpse is force to rock
|
| A season of starvation is at hand
|
| Has this bastard come to eat me again?
|
| To fall away without fear of emptiness
|
| For it must take great strength to starve |