Clad
in white, living out the day in blackened ice
Nihilist
of it’s time, believe in nothing
No
Gods, no Masters
Diecember,
end of a cycle, end of the line
Deep
within the frost bitten forest he assembles his troops
Anarchist
with a cause, chaos of the highest order
Once
forgotten always on the run
Diecember,
with sharpened claws you tear into flesh
The
messenger of the whiteout has called out
Terrorist
and the ruler of the One
Speak
no evil, charred and disfigured he walks
Diecember,
look out for the legend of his time
High
hopes cut down in it’s infancy, rebirth unacceptable
Narcissists
seeking the horizon for pray
The
chosen one will be slew, no time for sorrow
Diecember,
Omerta, the code of honor and of true silence
He who speaks the truth rises as the morning star
Atheist, believer of flesh and an end in compost bliss
The faith of man is doomed as the 365 runs out of time
Ω
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