Eyes Of The Dead - Ancient

deceased not dead my fire burns

procession of my rotting worms

heads in hand and silent moans

rotting cloth remains on bones

furious yet I ride with ease

grand invisions of crushing knees

rolling boulders the sound of thunder

soldiers rot they come from under

hear the scream it’s time to die

we ride the sea and glide the sky

feel the cold rise your feet

our silhouette is black and bleak

severed limbs you felt no slash

mouths are gaping dripping ash

brain is dead you look so old

hands are numb your face is cold

eyes of the dead eyes of the dead

eyes of the dead

crusted black putrid face

all are dead the rats in place

fingers crawl in searching birth

all around is dripping earth

hear the scream it’s time to die

we ride the sea and glide the sky

feel the cold rise your feet

our silhouette is black and bleak

severed limbs you felt no slash

mouths are gaping dripping ash

brain is dead you look so old

hands are numb your face is cold