Convoy reduced to utter decay
Eyes encrusted
Blind men search for a thoroughfare
Finding ourselves
Between sand and void
We speak in tongues
Solidified in the illusions of motion
Peripheral stigmatism
Unscathed, unaware
Stitched into the fabric of existence
Who then is wiser?
The leaden veteran who's foresight failed
Or the pallid youth who knows now
These wounds are not the type to heal
F*cked pilgrimage
Cursed lineage
Bodies beg the ancient sands
Accept surrender, become one
Kneel where the Rot Preacher stands