Misfortune Teller

The will was lost
In cities of the dead
The land around them mourned
Too lax to comprehend
The rife of wards
The armies in the skies
The muddled occupied feed
On pseudo-catholic rites
Rise, of the dead
The word upon our heads is «forlorn»
The size, of the dread
Within our padlocked haunts we erode
A grave mistake
We’re right back where we started from
No brave escape
It’s right back here we come
Resent yourself
Misfortune’s law
Is sketched within our chests
The ram’s head has decided
The sheep among us sleep
The layman’s worth
The hole above his head
The tyranny is clear
The floor beneath is gone
Rise, of the dead
The words upon our heads is «forlorn»
The size, of the dread
Within our padlocked haunts we erode
A grave mistake
(We're) right back where we started from
It’s devastating
It’s right back here we come
Resent yourself
A grave mistake
We’re right back where we started from
It’s devastating
It’s right back here we come
Resent yourself