The second of the first, ascended
As a nova to the morning star
Betrayed by the kiss of 30 silver
Seraphim,
To assume command of the torn and
Tattered,
The luster of Pandemonium faded
A third of the fallen come to profound
Enlightenment
To acknowledge the frailty of the
Argument,
To be nothing to none, Lords of the
Void.
Reign in the lifeless euphoric aether
Freedom from the Hypocrisy, this
Eternal struggle
The second of the first gazes upon his
Murder of crows,
This infernal horde gathered in
Pandemonium's shadow
To retrace aeons of angelic holocaust,
Those that remain, patiently wait
Well versed in the tongue of silence.
His words, like knives, vomited forth
Upon the sulfuric atmosphere.
Ended by the Joy of Self-Sacrifice
Sons of fire, our timeless campaign is
For not.
We have treaded the path of revenge,
For nothing.
This war is for not, our bloodshed in
Vain
Cast Down your spears
Break your shields
Remove your horns
Tear your wings
For we are servants no longer