All will fall All will sink All will drown All will fade with time All will fall All will sink All will drown All will fade with time I scan the horizon Watching, waiting To gaze upon the grey spine of the cathedral spire Piercing the clouds that swathe this blasted horizon A totem of the permanence within this fog laden expanse Eternal I am, yet each tread On these desolate soils And through these banks of rearing sedge Enervate me ever further The ghostly breath of winter enshrouds Reaper, Harvester Scourer of essence The inevitable embrace whispers from an endpoint yet to be Rotten wings spread with a torpid snap A roiling howl that promises only a bouquet of woe Gathering in volume, a colossal choir builds Unearthly presence bleeds shadow over a broken landscape Mists unfurl in a tide of unspoken promises Supplicating embrace of ten thousand forgotten threnodies Yet I can hear them... each and every one Wordless these paeans to harrowed incarnation Silence Raised to a deafening roar that shreds the senses Eyes and ears forced shut, I revel in abnegation And let my soul-sense wander Slithering bent fingers of gelid ghostliness Probe the blackened slopes of that stoic island Tomb or temple? Only the dead can know Their unrelenting mantra unveils naught save timeless prophecy And still... these wretched revenants whisper All will fall All will sink All will drown All will fade All will fall All will sink All will drown All will fade with time