“But how I weep for those who’ve gone”…

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Listen to their voices…

Feel their twisted screams…

A million painful stories…

Wrapped up in horrific dreams…

Carved out by distant dead…

These tales of travellers past…

Etched into our Earths rock…

With images that last…

Of a world that blackened…

As the sun sank into the sea…

Leaving just a darkness…

Within the forests and the trees…

Allowing all the demons…

To reach out and stake a claim…

Infecting like some virus…

The weak and the lame…

Preying on the fearful…

That were ripe for pillaging…

Taking an iron clad grip…

Projecting evil imagery…

Into hearts and minds…

Tearing into every soul…

Removing any innocence…

And assuming full control…

In-between the void…

Where fear and love collide…

Opening up the door…

Where the Devil himself resides…

With the dwarf and the giant…

Who are one and the same…

And the church of no religion…

Is a sanctuary for the insane…

But leaving no escape…

For the beaten and the damned…

Who told their haunting stories…

On stones across our land…

Those who saw it happen…

And left hand written warnings…

That evil still walks amongst us…

In the half light of each morning…

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