Blight

(Blight)
Raging fires burn the skies
Melting the heavens
Turning light into dark
On this the final act
The past is forgotten
As they call upon the dark crusader
To take up the weapons of war
And lead them into unholy victory

Upon this desecrated land
Littered with the bodies
Of the heavenly and demonic;
Shall the battle be held

Milton could have not foreseen
Such catastrophic delight
As the warlord draws his sword
And screams death to the heavens

Marching
To destroy
All of creation

Such a sight to see the angels descending
Descending from the skies of black
As the blood of good and evil
Fill these plains

The death of angels turns the ground to blight

In the mist of battle war torn cries
The dark crusader slaughters
With flaming mace in hand
Bashing the opposed
His domination will rain

Bow down
Beg for mercy
Bow down
For your king

As the carnage continues
The fires grow strong
Engulfing all in its path
Burning all to ash
Victory for the sick

Raging fires burn the skies
Melting the heavens
Turning light into dark
On this desecrated land
Lettered with the bodies
Bring forth blight