Marked, as empires expand and collapse, or beliefs that spread and wither. Control. A pattern of conquest and excesses that doom. Overweening ambition, or some poetic justice? you are tracing a life circle, confined, in a repeated pattern. Halfway through the process, you know how the other half will be. How could it be? How could it be? The same hands that gave peace and shelter to the ones that they are about to destroy. Despite all the greatness the decline will be for the same reasons. The length of chaos will be the one for your glory. Your descent. Your downfall.
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
