An army walks as one through the night
Black armor shining back at the moon
The ground shakes as it bows to their power
They are driven by hunger

High above them stands a dark figure
A scythe for each hand
Robes of blackish purple drenched in mud
Unknown blood drips from all over

An army of nightmares march to their unholy song
The soil turns barren behind them, withering to dust
Even darkness fears to leave
And shrouds of darkness cover their path

Wraiths scratch the walls of sanity as they fly past
Shadows seem to arise from no source
Creatures of night reinforce the flanks
Walking dead prove that death is not the end


When there is no more room in hell
The dead shall walk the land
They are those who bring Armageddon

But who says I can't lead the way?