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Against The Archaic
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The Opportunists
Cries of fear and anguish is all that can be heard.
An undefined hell hole for them to call their own.
Condemning any and all without the resolve to choose a herd.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
There will be no end to their pain and distress.
They have failed their test.
And they scream 'We are the forever indifferent.
The very picture of cowardice.
'We have no home to be sent to.'
'We are the opportunists.'
'All we know is regret, it only gets harder the more you resist.'
They beg the gods they've forsaken.
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Praying for a death sentence.
But they will offer them no repentance.
This filthy squalor of agony and despair is the only home they will come to know.
The scars they are given daily is all they have to wear
And their anonymous dwelling is all that they have to share.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
Chasing their own shadows at the gates of madness.
They will feel no relief and will never rest.
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