My own ashes have covered the road of a distant past
Buried in a forgotten path
No matter how many consequences have arrived, there is never looking back
Always forging onwards
Existence is short, every moment counts
The plagues and pestilence always grow but the wings of hatred carry me on
Soaring across the cemetery halls and into the pits of mourn
In battles for the vision, carry on with this mortal pace
And to ponder with mental incision to witness the end of this storming disgrace
The end may be near, but don't throw down the sword
Carry on with this mortal pace, archaic lore is power and isolation is the key
And as my fire consumes your so called darkness the distant ancestor recharges my soul
This is the promised ravage ...
(Burning deadly rage, endless Volcanic-Decimating-Etherealism)