[intro] [hook] [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] Within the dead city, a statue moves, No eyes watching, it has nothing to prove. It never was built, but it builds instead, A city of bones, a realm of the dead. [ascending progression] [hook] [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] It whispers chants, come here to die, It tears asunder, the prison of life, A voiceless whisper, pure mockery, Give me your bones, to build my city. [interlude] [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] The streets stretch wide with hollow moans, Paved with teeth and shattered stones. No breath, no flesh, just silent hands, Carving fate on barren lands. [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] The sky is dust, the air is still, Fed by dread, it drinks its fill. No sun to cast a judging light, Only shadows, black as night. [interlude] [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] It calls the lost, the damned, the blind, Offers peace of empty mind. Step inside, your soul’s undone, Become the mortar, become the stone. [Spoken in low, guttural whispers] The city grows with every guest, A kingdom built from their unrest. No king but silence, cold and deep, Where all must wake, yet none may sleep. [slow breakdown] [Instrumental wall of sound] [Instrumental wall of sound] [Instrumental wall of sound] [outro]
