Across the billowing sands, the highway of extinction
Nothing left, to determine the very edge of life
Here, no afterlife can be seen
And a man stands on the outset of the rotting flesh and winds
To journey where, why and how remains to be seen
To say that I have become the monster you fear
No longer the one you once knew
Like the poisoned children and the infants lying in abortion cribs
I am the empty one, the one from which all entrophy comes
and no life returns
Each step weighs a ton as I trek across the corpse filled landscape
Seeking what is lost, but finding no solace
Telling you to kill yourself now, because you are dead in my mind
For this, I was born?
For this to turn into a world of shit
To see my flesh flayed, torn and tormented... adorned with fresh blood and bone
The world is nothing more than a husk waiting to burn, and with souls waiting to scream for the dying agony put off for some sick, selfish end
Even at the noonday sun to burn across my darkened flesh
scars wrought upon my heart and soul
The world as I knew it, became something more horrid than Cthulu
More maddening than the hells I came to see
Is it because water deprivation I see these visions?
Or is it, the depredation that lays in my world that I would see it destroyed, nothing to fruition and most of all to see you dead and destroyed like the Sands of Time
When all wishes have come to fruition, would then the dreams of the faithful be destroyed
Angel nor Demon could see the extent to which I lament
Man nor beast could see the very hate which drives me to trek
across the wastelands, finding life in death and destruction
Armed with nothing but my wit, my hate, my emptiness
I will destroy, because creation is beyond me
What trickery is this, that all of my wishes are granted, many of my own dreams have been destroyed?
What tomfoolery... what shenanigans and jackassery to unfold against my own life
How hot the winds become, that I do not understand the level of my own destitution
But in the name of friendship, I began
For love no longer can exist, the rapture of the world has already taken it
No Mark of The Beast to marr my flesh
Yet the Dragon is etched into my flesh as I cross into the dark
Pray that these wastlands are of my deranged mind
Yet the wound left never healed, and praying leads me to something I can't fathom
Am I the Death God, seeking to take what is left
No immortal am I, as my blades and pistols sound the alarm
Slowly my arm raises itself, pointing to an unknown object
Flash!
The sound of thunder across the land, and a light so fast only a projectile can match
You're dead in my mind and now I am truly the monster you fear!
For this I was born?
To live in apocrypha, but living to die amidst the skulls, in the sandy crypts
where no one but the scorpions and vipers were company
Indeed, in these wastelands of life, this is the cut that never heals.