Against the Grain - In Vain

An outright war

Rage in our lands

As nations collide

For reign and might

Cities set ablaze

By torches at night

Bodies torn by plagues,

Left to rot

Vultures drawing near

In the mountains at night

Wolves howl

Red moon falls on the horizon

Towards the beckoning end

And the wait for redemption at hand

Harvest of dead seeds

Burning crops of disease

Barren soil in the vast landscape

Burning sky

Falling from grace

Families in exile

Leaving broken homes

Plundered by marauders

In the search for gold

Cities set ablaze

By torches at night

Bodies torn by plagues

Left to rot

Doom descends upon our lands

Our outlook is bleak

Wastelands

Flowing with the moving wind

On a pathway to the sun

An incarnation of the icon

Transcend into the atmosphere