Begotten night of vermin, cloaked descent
Scorned Heavens scream themselves into existence
Our salvation lies in her blood
Blackened pyre, the end of all my dreams
Through blackened holes
Spiraling worms defiant against the sands of time
. . . We are the End
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Condemned to a fiery void, where teeth gnash and limbs beat endlessly, those that have inflicted pain on the innocent scream in agony, their cries reaching the top of the tallest spire that pierce the heavens where the abused now reside.
Those below plead for forgiveness, for solace. Those above simply laugh and refuse to answer as they watch them flail in the pit eternally.
This is the voice of one of many within the tower. It is the new standard for emotionally extreme music. Grimmrobe