Landing On The Mountains Of Meggido

Lords,
can it be mistakes
throughout the constant vows
of the lost and gone,
blind and wrong

Inside
a faith without a home,
a fire that is cold,
but grows so well,
who's to tell?

About it all.
A nation cannot see,
the hardest part to take
is not for me,
the dying trees.

This is what wars are made of
Haunted...

The readings cracked and grey
and plagerized to date
Altered by the bastards
of pure disguise
of seas and skies

The pagan drums should wake
The sleeping of the fools
to forget the churches language
Who's the fool
me or you?

The greatest mask of fate
The longest battle through
the text of great predictiors
For me and you,
the old and new

This is what wars are made of
Haunted...