Death Flourished in a Withered Grove

Death flourished in a withered grove
With bleeding tendrils that the corpses wove
Desiccated, risen from earth
From the virulent strain, a new era is birthed

Death has found a way
It feeds upon mankind dismay
It yearns to tip the scales
And shatter the balance that was once so frail

One by one the bodies rise
With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
Cremation undone, They're poised to become
The impetus of man's demise

Beasts of scriptures long gone
With Fangs, Claws and seven-foot jaws
They howl scream and shriek in the night
Taunting the men who are too scared to fight

The lurking shadows are circling the altars
Leaving a trail marked with grime, soot, and mud
Unsealed, they cross, leaping the threshold of churches
Finally committing atrocities echoed in tomes writ in blood

Like scum, writhing in the waste
No mercy, not a trace
Razor talons drag upon the face

Soaring overhead, the damned wyverns of the dead
Beset with the thrill of the outbreaks' first kill

Denounce your poultry gods
And tread the path once trod
The ancients found a way
To deliver yourselves from this bane

One by one the bodies rise
With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
Cremation undone, They're poised to become
The impetus of man's demise

Death has flourished albeit a bit malnourished
Her needs arise with vain contempt
For the One the darkness tempts

Honing the one, honing the one
Honing the one who will be death's earth-born son
Honing the one, honing the one
Honing the one who will blot out the Sun

Death has flourished and sank her fangs into reverent lambs
As wolves unto sheep, She's preyed on the meek
Mobilizing towards the Nazarene

Torn between a life obscene, with obelisks risen to remind the deed
The remnants of the old ways carry on throughout the dread filled day.