The broken sun glides through a black veiled glow
Trying vainly to hide, like an eagle in the snow
The last desperate ray pushes weakly through a sky
That has lost the will to live
But found no courage to die
The might and the force of an army of souls
Rises up in the night from their desecrated holes
Thus the touch paper lights and the reckoning begins
Devastation for the loser
Living death for he who wins
Sitting, back curled anxiously
With his parchment and his pen
The weary watcher tired of seeing
Blood again and again
Casts out his eyes, yet the ears remain
To tell him that the World's
At Journey's End
