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A Plea for Solace

Amongst The Dead


Our march goes on
Past the places we've grown to love.
I look into the eyes of my neighbor
And see the pain of a thousand years.
Heaven follows with us
But only through its plagues.
The rivers turn to blood
At our finger tips.
Famine overtakes us.
We seek death
But that is one comfort we'll never see.
The torment is unbearable
But we march on nonetheless
And heaven follows with us,
But only through its plagues.
No prayer can save us,
Death won't bless us here.
The cities crumble as we pass.
All that's left is persecution.
Step towards the throne,
Step towards His throne.
(Chant:) We await our judgment
We await our doom.

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