The sinister witch-fires gleam Against a sky swirling out of form Embracing the Undead Temple Have their bleak flames flicered Casting no living shadows To remind of a natural place To dance upon the walls and ground Or to draw but nightmarish figures Funerary worshippers crawling Almost as a heap of flesh Into the postal chambers Enshrined with ancient symbols To descend unto Black Earth Where bones adorn all Neither dead or with beating hearts Are they, called by His voice Gathering of hopeless souls No longer able to flee Flocking onwards Down there where madness dwells In the city of eternal death In the shadow of the howling ziggurats