It was a time of condemned souls... of whore-tongued false prophets, new clay idols... forged chains at the expense of blood and scrawny bones... self-taught masochism. It came the sunset and the whips left long red shadows in misdirected souls... they left the death written along large pentagrams...

The battle begins... condemnation is a sacred teaching... gloomy sounds build heavy machinery... war machines wheel over the verses of never dreamed melodies...

At my right hand sings the death...