There was a raid in one of the towns.
"Show us the pendant of supremacy!"
Stitch their mouths shut.
Here's a spinneret soaked in contagious sap.
Assist with the injurious curse.
Don't take down their ships.
We shall navigate to the lost shore
And make them know how our river feeds
Dispose of those fools in blue caskets.
Eyes boiled in an aromatic mixture
Of lavender and nightshade as a rancid potion
Summons a spiral pull to Necropolis' main alley
"Come forth, black wine!"
A voice commanded from the blaze-eaten junction
Fluids then ooze out of the scorched earth
And turns the victims into turpentine weed
See how certain forces respond to a necromancer
That has spawned before Genesis
He's chosen to subdue me with the existence of day
So concentrate or cease to exist
Elixir extracted from their bones
One drop into their stitched mouths
Is enough to mutate them into defective mourns
Against a certain God who retaliates with flame
Lazarus was seen rotting in his vase.
He uses His enemy's prison for rejected souls.
The magma distorts their screams
As dark prayers are offered from the oppressed
Arms chopped and thrown into the void.
Worship nothingness as a slice of His daily mixture.
Cultured flesh and black wine for eternal silence
Keeps Necropolis intact in each injurious curse.