They leave their base as the sun dips below the earth It's dusk as they take flightsquadron after squadronstealth coating,scolluped wings and pointy noses.Somewhere in the skythe squadrons separateand seperate again.With radar like accuracyeach individual finds its targeteach target...

interesting fate, fickle with her fandomsome eat richly while it is famine for othersmy bloodlust under controla hunter of souls, I'm chaste of visionmy scarred inner terrain, is incessant with its hungerdamned the horde, who urges me to feedcaustic...

put the poet away no way to put it any other way The words strike the floor,low and heavy,a drum you didn’t mean to summonbut summoned anyway. put the poet away no way to put it any other way The echo answers...