Soiled hands of work, to pit a nations fall Skeletal hands upon the coffers of the old world Ghosts of men, re-writing history Red ink, from the well of martyrdom Words to drip from the traitors tongues Waging a war between the crimson lines The old heart of the earth Divided, poisoned and ready for the fall Valiant men Are made to wear the devils mask The scapegoats for a new age Such words will bear the fruit of flesh Tomorrows finger on the trigger So, who heralds the grace of fallen empires? Hymns to the ruination of majesty He who inherits the dark crown of ill will And the scorn of those deemed righteous men We are valiant man We wear the devils mask The scapegoats for the new age Such words will bear the fruit of flesh Today's innocent Tomorrows finger on the trigger The gauntlet thrown, the baton tossed By statute, by law, by divine decree Impositions as kindling to the fire The old heart of the earth is beating, with ancient blood