World War III
The Diety's eye, closed to humanity's sacrifices.Can the young girl inide run from darkness bloom?
Are the Noble Knights fated to a crimson doom?
The Reaper's baller raises his sword.
Glinting, screaming with the blood of reaped souls.
Plague moans in Misery.
The disease spreads over the heart's engraved creed.
Crying, thriving for justice amongst humanity's vanity.
Can you feel the pressure of the broken souls?
Can you see what's been lost so long ago?
Misery sleeps in the heart of Hunger.
A pain that twists and burns from within.
Scathing, licking the soul's heels for redemption.
The desire to love, to forgive and never regret
Awaits at the white gates that have been bent....and molded.
Hunger scream for the freedom from Pestilence,
A disease closer to the souls lurk around the reaper's blade.
Can the young live before considered existing?
Is Death not the gift that just keeps giving?
Beg before the moon's tainted light, leading a darker way.
Pestilence cried over human's souless, frivaless love
Than can only repeat by Death's hand.
We've lost.
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