Upon the ashen pathways tread Softly, as the whispered dead. As mortal flesh doth rot and fail To leech and maggot, ebbing frail. Unhallowed words cannot be spoken, With whispered oath, death lies broken. Shed fear, shed life, shed pain, shed time, Eternity seized shall soon be thine. First spirit torn from Grave-Lady’s grasp Be rent and sown as soured ash. Soft the spiral song reverses, Judgment lost, damnation surges. Keeper of the damned’s soul take, With packlord’s heart the beast shall wake And flesh be wrought in disarray— Stillborn cocoon, to blessed decay. A hundred slain lie innocent, Grind bone and marrow to cement. Craft now a skull of splintered graves, Unmake life, unmake the slave. Where history churns dream to blister, Necrophagous secrets whisper Through chronicles of Raven’s tongue— A legacy of fear unspun. Blood spilt atop the Iron Thorn Invokes that which cannot be born. Arise the Tyrant now unbound, Bearer of the Carrion Crown!
