1. PROLOGUE. FORTHCOMING APOCALYPSE

(Instrumental)


2. MORTI VIVENTI

The masses rot as they breathe, bathing in plague.
I cannot rest until I have killed the diseased.
The live may not rot.
Rotting is a privilege saved only for the dead


3. RED, BLACK, AND BLUE

Our throats are slit,
And ear to ear the inspiration gushes out,
Replaced by an anthem of fear.
My life just falls apart.

Strings sewn to our limbs
To force the hymns of war on beauty.
So we won't wake up.
The scars they leave,
So parents grieve the death of freedom in their children.

A soul for sale, it's cheap to buy.
The merchants of death smile wide.
Does anyone still even care?

My life just falls apart


4. DEAD IN THE QUEUE

One lonely night I trembled,
Asking "what purpose has an angel?
And do we die forever?
And how can this pain be so simple?"

Smothered, like being buried alive.
It's perverted, the burden of life.
But we will push our hands to reach the air -
Only the dead say they're not scared.

Bodies that move without minds,
Slaughtered while standing in line.
But soon the time will come to rise up.
Rise up!

We sit transfixed in mesmerized delight.
Hypnotized, manipulated, we're grabbing everything in sight.
Our fingernails are bleeding from beneath.
We smile so vacantly - we grin and show our rotting teeth.
Eating the remains of the meaning that we seek,
The substitution of illusion leaves us cowardly and meek.

We sit transfixed


5. BASTARD SHIT BASTARD

Stars in its eyes
And a knife is its dirty hand.
Blood
Combined with
Dirt
Combined with
Greed.
Take what you want.
Take it all.
Take advantage.
Long live exploitation


6. EVERY HORROR EVERY DAY

What are you telling me,
With sideways glances
And demure disposition to what I want to hear?

And what's the difference
If you stay sitting for another couple of minutes
With your needs written into slogans?

You're so much more honest than me.
So much less of a joke.

Consuming.
Decaying.
Reliving every horror every day.
When you lay down to die
Will you forget the truth about the lie you lived?

Idle hands wringing your neck,
Flesh crawls right off of the bone.
Blood falling down from the sky.
Tears falling down like rats run from the light.
Silent genocide


7. THIS DAY IS A SPARK OF LIFE

This day is a spark of life

Skin to the concrete, the violent gale of the saw to the bone.
Stirred from sleep, this warrior is restless.
There are no words for what will befall
A brittle, collapsing skeletal world.
But the aftermath will leave the dregs
Lacking compassion and grace, stricken with death.

At dawn we wage war.

This is the skin to the concrete.
This is the saw to the bone.
This is a spark of life


8. FILL MY MOUTH WITH DIRT

We only want to rest in peace.

Push my hand through this pine box.
The sunlight sears my eyes.
Acid world with acrid flowers.
Undertakers in disguise.

All the ground is soft.
Fill my mouth with dirt


9. MARCH ON TO VICTORY

I awake to take my place among the living.
I'm giving you all that you asked for and more.
So when the end comes, it will burn bright.
Like ten billion suns.
Consuming tired worlds and closed doors.

And when the end comes, I'll be immortal.
I'll be the mountain.
Decomposition of these distractions -
Without an end there can be no beginning.

So I will march on, march on to victory.
And you will see me - The fire inside of me
March on to victory
Until my feet bleed.

For your protection
The mask you wear is forever affixed to your face
So you hide, fearing life and the challenge inside
Of defeating oppression through soul resurrection.

We'll know the path inside
Force ourselves not to hide
And throw our souls to the wind.

Those who fear judgment fear only themselves;
A forged existence.
But when the end comes -
Those who march on will be the ones who used hope as a weapon.

So we embrace fear - march on to victory.
Get up when we fall.
March on to victory.
And when our feet bleed, then we will crawl.

A humble maniac looking for the light
With imperfections and questions to ask.

I am not defeated, though my skin is rotting.
This march goes on forever,
Roots long forgotten.

I will rise to meet you as the fog rolls in under our feet


10. EPILOGUE. LEGIONS OF DEAD PREPARE FOR WAR

(Instrumental)