Unchain The Oracle

Always the righteous will be condemned
By a thorned kiss scorned, the meek will fall
Without disciples or defendants
Idols, they will seldom sacrifice, but triumph
In the machiavellian ploys of myopic decree
Like the breath of god etched in stone
Condoning hedonistic freedoms of indulgence
While man worships man and the crosses fall
By self-serving eyes, modified 
For the reformation of ideology
And throughout the ages, the books have burned
With the will that binds the wheel to turn
Against the heels of declaration

I saw the morning star 
And numb I remained to its aesthetic charm
For her beauty was ignorance
And cruelty that bore not a thorn for a crown
No crimson drips from the altar
Still a butcher's block they drape
As we walk between the great divide
To where the pariahs and orphans pray
Our hands bear gifts of ivory
And our tongues, they speak of gold
In an avid gleam of immolation
​​​​​​That demands you live in misery
As we offer up your soul

Chaos eclipses
The moon wields not the tide
Of conquest that bleeds beyond genocide
But only the dead will witness
Who is the leader and who is the king
Until the oceans rise to envelop the void
The legions will succeed
With a black sun ascending
As the earth stands still
To its own revolution and subversive will
We live as though we are not reborn
Exempt from the cycle and free to evolve
With death the only judge of retribution

Patriots flagellate
With blood-soaked flags of tired rage
While prophets awake to weep
A saviour will come not in rags of sage
But from the fire our souls lay to sleep
Still conscience collapses into its core
Too deep, yet shallow, to be awakened
Too grounded to ever soar

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