Here you gather
To hear these tales of false gods
And of misery
And of terror you could never dream
Possessing
A warning so dire
Words from my tongue
Weightless upon your ears
If scrawled by hand
The tome could not be carried
Within my mind
This volume rests
Wisdom of true darkness
Borne out of these desolate plains
Fields of madness
Ripe for harvest
Swaying in poisoned winds
There
In silence
And fear
Children suffer greatly
From faith
A Plainsman is born
There
In silence
And fear
Children suffer greatly
From faith
A Plainsman is born
Here you gather
To hear these tales
Of false gods
And of misery
And of terror you could never dream
Possessing
A warning
So dire
I SHARED HIS FEAR
I HEARD HIS SCREAMS
PROPHETIC SCENES
WITHIN MY DREAMS