Soiled hands of work, to pit a Nations Fall   Skeletal hands upon the coffers of the Old World   Ghosts of Men, re-writing history   Red ink, from the well of Martyrdom      Words to drip from the Traitors Tongues   Waging a War between the Crimson lines   The Old Heart of the Earth   Divided, poisoned, ready for the fall      Valiant Men, made to wear the Devils Mask   The Scapegoats for a New Age   Such words will bear the Fruit of Flesh   (Today's Innocence),   Tomorrows Finger on the Trigger      So, who Heralds the Grace of Fallen Empires?   Hymns to the Ruination of Majesty   He who inherits the Dark Crown of ill will   The Scorn of those deemed Righteous Men      The Gauntlet thrown, The Baton tossed   By Statute, by Law, by Divine Decree   Impositions as Kindling to the fire   The Old Heart is beating, with Ancient Blood      [A history passed through generations, through the ravages of time and falsity of spirit, blood remains and the circle remains unbroken, the answer to the future lays in the not too distant and dim past, and as we lay waste to the naysayers and cut the traitors tongues from their very mouths of spectre of history shall loom from the past enriched with the Blood of our Ancestors to pass judgement...]