| Smell the fear, the coming decay of all, rites of spring gone rotten
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| High priests, lords of artifice, lead their flocks into harm’s way
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| Welcome all to the new inquisition, the last shriek from the tomb
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| Nothing left but to burn it all down and rub the salt into the open wound
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| Destroy, delete, rebuild, repeat, another name carved into stone
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| Falsify then pretend, as we cut the cord and wait for the end
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| With a concrete stare, rituals of power
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| The dead eyes of the past, rituals of power
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| Up to the gates of Armageddon, rituals of power
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| Until we’re all one with the dust, rituals of power
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| Still they cling to the old superstitions, the elders, they speak in tongues
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| They spit words their words and they wither and wait as Cronus eats the young
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| Destroy, delete, rebuild, repeat, another name carved into stone
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| As they rot away, 200 years, straight to the grave
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| With a concrete stare, rituals of power
|
| The dead eyes of the past, rituals of power
|
| Up to the gates of Armageddon, rituals of power
|
| Until we’re all one with the dust, rituals of power
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| No ones cares who lives or dies, no empathy, no compromise
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| The crows descend, the children mourn, the ichor spills and the crosses burn
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| Like Visigoths at the gates of Rome, a great decline into a great unknown
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| Marble eyes, obelisks, cenotaphs, Bolsheviks
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| Cities burn and ashes rain, no one speaks of us again
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| Each and all, swept away like grains of sand on the shore of time
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| Greed shrines, halls of emptiness, blight and shame rewarded
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| Cowardice with no consequence, thieves-as-gods exalted
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| Parasites, endless appetites, drag them to oblivion
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| Subjects fill the empty nest, mouths open, waiting for worms |