Against The Grain

In Vain

An outright war
 Rage in our lands
 As nations collide
 For reign and might
 Cities set ablaze
 By torches at night
 Bodies torn by plagues,
 Left to rot
 Vultures drawing near
 In the mountains at night
 Wolves howl

 Red moon falls on the horizon

 Towards the beckoning end
 And the wait for redemption at hand
 Harvest of dead seeds
 Burning crops of disease
 Barren soil in the vast landscape
 Burning sky
 Falling from grace

 Families in exile
 Leaving broken homes
 Plundered by marauders
 In the search for gold
 Cities set ablaze
 By torches at night
 Bodies torn by plagues
 Left to rot
 Doom descends upon our lands
 Our outlook is bleak
 Wastelands

 Flowing with the moving wind
 On a pathway to the sun
 An incarnation of the icon
 Transcend into the atmosphere