The old man laughs at the bleak horizon
As he yokes the ship that pulls the shores
The blissfull end of days seems unsure
When justice sleeps with the wolves
And the unholy, cloaks the hallow soil
With black, poisonous dust
Bells toll and walls are tumbled, the chanting of the masses destroys the courts
But the days of disquiet remains unheard
For the gods that sweeps the earth's soil
Had forsaken us all.