In the wasteland of broken dreams,
And where common threads are cut,
The Shepard's crown lays shattered at his feet,
Dethroned by his own sheep when our Father never came to save.
The Beast is on his way, achingly slow, but his arrival is certain.
Fear and heartache strike us, a clock at midnight.
It was never the Almighty's hour to rule,
We knew that when our imperfect masses imploded.
The Angel of Darkness waits in the wing for his new victims,
We bury them in the dirt because we've always known,
Heaven was never meant for such broken creatures.
We should have seen the Beast was coming when he cast no shadow.
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