The thrust of thorns cautious
As dust settles upon the thrones
Woven in the reddened temple
Phantoms to skim the void
Mankind frozen in spheres of sense
Hideous dance to clouded dawn
The unworshipped are they
Now faded to gray
The unworshipped are we
Unending blasphemy
An earth born to blindness
For realms widow the mind impulse
Wounded long by the human calm
From its woe spills the clouds
Gleaming on the corpse of sunset
Twilight dulls the glass grave of god
Colossal in earthen roots embrace now
For in a heart of vipers sleeps the noose
Longing for the shroud of black chapels unseen
We seek not a consequence from stones turned
The unworshipped are you