| Pt. |
| 1
|
| Waking up in crimson glow
|
| Vultures gathering on the ridge
|
| Wondering what’s this place become
|
| Shadows swallowing the sky
|
| Arid dunes give way to jagged stone
|
| Embers quivering in the mist
|
| Burning flames dance across the sand
|
| Blood and ashes on your lips
|
| Sitting on an ivory throne
|
| An iron hand glares down with lust
|
| The fettered masses cry for gentle hands
|
| Silence echoes from the sky
|
| Pt. |
| 2
|
| Built with the backs of the destitute
|
| The monolith stands wicked and red
|
| Its cold black eyes gaze down shrouded in obsidian
|
| Reaping the blood of the innocent
|
| The obelisk demands a sacrifice
|
| The time’s come for the shackled ones
|
| To bring the tower, down down down
|
| It’s getting late for the demagogues
|
| Dispensing misery to the populous
|
| Bellowing screams shout enough is enough
|
| No more blood for the opulent
|
| Damnation to the citadel
|
| Nothing to lose but the weight of the chains
|
| Burn the castle, down down down |