Night has passed, comes the down,
Age of apocalypse has just begun,
When the moon will shade the earth,
It will be the last time.

The screaming begins -
We're on the run,
With the flash of a light
And were done.    

The wind whispers grieving song,
All is dark the light withdrawn,
To ashes our hope has scattered,
A fading smoke of flame that ended.

Ho what a pity kin we are,
A plague, a virus of the worst kind,
To the abyss we march as blind,
On our banner death as a scar.  

It is our fate we cannot wild it,
To pass as dream and feed the land,
For all the sins of vanity we caused it,
Our cannon fodder it has earned.