Scattered by this scourge The impalement of the piercing sun Thought to be the place to all for Their beloved ones The gates opened, but not for entry It was for their absolute obliteration It was the face of their god It tired of the plague, that was man Who spat on the face of logic and reason Falling to their knees Glance upon the falling sky Heavens grace upon them now burns the heart And there it lies Horrified at the mutilated earth Once called people return to the molten dirt Comprised of a used and feeble source Now wasted bones and earth It then revealed innate archetypes The products of concepts and malfunctions But the quintessence fails to see this To be trapped in faulty flesh And to be deceived in the iconic sphere