The Heretic's Age 歌词

	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...]

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