Destined for the dirt
Sentenced to be by the sword of the damned
Buried deep within
Removed from the heart and returned to the hand
Nothing is sacred
That crawls up from the soil
The heavenly throne
Thirsts for the blood of the royal
Trumpets resound
As the right is reclaimed
And the body is nourished
With the wine of the vein
Triumph of the slain
Iron sharpened still
Pulled forth from the infinite deep
This sword of despair I've honed
Delays me from eternal sleep
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
Deceased, devout, delivered
Fed to the flames
Every sheep that is led astray
For all will come to know
The glorious transcend the grave
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
Thy spirit, that which remained
Spilled forth to join
The Triumph of the slain
Sentenced to be by the sword of the damned
Removed from the heart and returned to the hand