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Religious Plagues
by
Noctem
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You can now pray to the stars, the sins excite you. The hatred dull your senses, and feel the rain down on you, getting wet your disfigured face, crawling in the mud. You liked to play with human lives. Trapped by the Celtic moon, you can't cry, endless suffering. Your face is a reflection of your soul Captivated by the northern winds, in the center of the storm of swords. You'll never rest in peace. Do you think that I can't break your faith? Sacred father bless me with your golden throne The ancient gods are ashamed in their holy niche. An inherited world corrupted by ignorance. Death, war, disease, hunger. This is your future.
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