The Chosen

We gather in a circle, and stand before the chasm
We cast not a shadow, holding torches high in vain
We embrace the mist, throw our torches in the void
We bring about the endtime, vow the earth to be destroyed

Father rises proudly from the world's end
Mankind writhing like filth in his caring hand
Father has the keys, he's returned from the dead
To bring his sons to victory, and bring men to an end...

Brothers disregard your robes, cast down your damned disguise
He read from the book and proudly fell, he met the father's eyes