Supreme Gift Of The False Prophecy کے بول

Delusion of a future to come Everlasting lie Born in pain, tears, the stigma carved deep Shoulders ever hunched Cursed inheritance, the burden of all Onward hopeless march Road is winding through unseen worn paths Footprints soaked with blood First steps, fissures spreading Treachery will pave the way Mind cracks, melting faces Forging iron, quenching clay Slowed, stuck, mutilated Ankle=deep forbidding mud Wasteland, visions faded Echoes of the mocking God Scorched ground, lifeless meadows Hotting flesh and blistered hide Foul stench, spears of fire Parched with thirst, no aim in sight Last climb upon the steepest mountain Breath cut, air with regrets is crowding Rock scythes, all fools are ripe for harvest Last fall, only unforgiving darkness