Sorrow beckons
What is left
When the dawn rises
After a red horizon
Births black riders
Charging forward
When the maelstrom is done
None will have a future
No building will stand
The earth broken, and bent
And humanity bleeds sorrow
When death is done riding
The other horsemen rest
Waiting to be called upon again
Catastrophe planted
Long ago
The crops of horror cultivated
For millennia
The yield is bitter
As the harvesters take home
The fruit of bitter seed
