With sight clear
We saw what road lay ahead
Burning in flames for the glorious end
Destiny clad, upon the stone's cast
Breathing, living, dying

Within empty eyes of an effigy's mask
Decrepit relic from the past

Blackened bones
Empty hands

As the rain turns iron to rust
In the lonely grave of bygone blood
Time's cruel march, onwards it turns
Ceaseless, breathless, dying

Flash-blind in stellar burst
Silhouettes of an empire, returned to dust
Receding illumination, darkness returns
Creeping archaic harvest yearns

Blackened bones
Empty hands