Testo di Obliterating 'I'

How frail is this mountain Upon which our stronghold stands? Were but one stone to shift All would subside to naught When the walls lie in ruin around you Cursed the foul earth that bore you Withering among the rocks Rending and devouring flesh of your own When flames scorch fields and claw at your door Bereft of hope, descending Devolving to beast, no other will you spare Lie in the torrent of embers Draw deep the breath of pestilence Grow as blight on the living Hone, teeth to bone