I’m waiting for mayhem to meet. 
These colours reared right round the precipice.
The bale of the ancients consuming, 
and fury is meat in my march.

This horror of ages our fleet, 
assembled of death through millennia –
All hell hails(,) our prospect embracing, 
and fury is meat in my march.


Their glory stood proud on my palm. 
Their beauty in skies ‘bove all fantasy.
As darkness was vanquished in dreamscapes 
and knowledge was grain on their course.

Then all was hopeful and calm, 
for all signs would bode their ascension.
Now that bliss remains but a shadow, 
mere mortar for remorse.


I’m waiting for mayhem to meet. 
These colours reared right round the precipice.
The bale of the ancients consuming, 
and fury is meat in my march.

This horror of ages our fleet, 
assembled of death through millennia –
All hell hails(,) our prospect embracing, 
and fury is meat in my march.