Eternally the grim fog sets, to rouse from  a slumber of centuries, screams of malediction  emanate when diabolical procreation overshadows the meek.    Crumbling fall the statues of Icons  As the infernal deluge consumes the  Landscape, entwined in thorns paralyze  weltering mortality, quickly sinking below the  molten sea.    The winged tyrant took flight  Apocalypticus weaves its trance    The faceless wolves roam unbridled to exsistence  Chilling winds of the Anu befall all conceived  Brandished by nightfall smother blooming hope  Profane hooves thunder across the ravaged plains    Chaos blleds from the eye on the throne,  Chasms billowing stench of the kingdom  that once ruled, seven, horrid and soulles. A hunger for  mortals, their frenzy unfolds.  Forever banish to the heaving underworld pits,  Quetly flow the river Styx.