Empire Without End Video (MV)

My visage gazes out from pediments
Upon subjects from a thousand tribes

My hand commands the earth
I bid the grain to grow, or else to die
A thousand more tribes gather in the dark

Frenzied clawing nobles suck the pigment from his hem
Lamiae with purpled lips drowning in the waters of the Styx

Feeble voices chorusing in theocratic chant
Drown in rising tides of pipes of bone that hold their souls
Transfixed

By the rising of the moon
While the ancient city swoons
As the gleaming of her golden domes
Grows wan and cold
Like sagging breasts held up by flaking bones

Throned in the temple of the Son
All Gods are one... in I
So why
Why do I fear the setting sun?

Sing
Oh Muse
Of Empire Without End