The March Toward Megiddo

All Kingdoms fall
As the monuments
Have before them
Stone and steel, bonded together by the blood of the begotten

In truth, 'tis a fragile design, a poor bond
Fertile lands cloaked by what sustains life, a harvest doth not flourish
Neither should an empire
There are no kings in this domain
Land is the law
Nature

(Man is a bastard son, ungrateful in it's blessings
Such fools, unable to see the fate staring back from a far
A destiny delivered unto themselves through premonition, through divine tongue
They march to the hymns of a hypocrite, a king of lies, backwards into oblivion)

No such divinity is of this world
Yet for aeons you have bent at the knee
Born and bred into submission
Stone and steel, bonded together by the blood of brothers and sisters

In truth, 'tis a fragile design, a poor bond
Fertile lands cloaked by what sustains life, a harvest doth not flourish
Neither should an empire
There are no kings in this domain
Land is the law
Nature
Pray to no gods
Prey to no gods