Alba s touto skladbou:
Rise Of The Tyrant,
The Remaining Few,
"A word; conceived in a cascade of light, given substance via the axiom of doubt
An emblem of truth to those who bow their heads and dwell within its shadow
Wherefore to stand in the garish light of the antediluvian liberty
When the chastening glow of darkness brings its on gratification?"
Like worms they prostate themselves before the great eye
and crawl on their bellies through shards of god.
Emerging in radiant gloom, a cruel mockery of luminescence,
Like the twisted afterglow of a star bound in chains.
Our idols were gifted back to us as the lowest among distortions
For the fools who dip their blades in the cesspools of betrayers
In the name of gods they never had; our godheads, wrenched from grace
To preside o'er the hate of the heard, belighted and broken by tyrant and state
Do not call me brother!
My cause is not your cause!
Your faith was never mine!
And mine will ne'er be yours!
The betrayers who would have us thank them for poisoning the well of our beliefs
And bearing its perverted message as their own, to the funeral of our creed
