Famines' horse is black Fallow ground 'neath his hoof From the sky rains hail Lack of food his tipping scale Conquest he is the antichrist Riding a steed of white Striking with militant drones Killings souls from his mighty bow War he rides on red With a sword he takes your head Contempt of life Creating chaos and strife And behold, there came four chariots from between two mountains, and the mountains Were mountains of brass Deaths stallion is pale Standing on top the hill Ancient ways restored Unlock the demon horde