Scholarly pursuits of life after death Existing after your last breath Skin is rotting off, vision's nearly lost Erudition achieved at all cost Supersede the need to feast for creed Existing after your last deed Skin is rotting off, vision's nearly lost Erudition achieved at all cost I hear their screams And smell their reeking Rotting corpses A sickness Growing inside of me Gnawing at the void Where my self should be When I am dead and rotten Through death I'm begotten Weathered over time My bones will be forgotten Sacrificed humanity Long riddled with disease Atop a bone-made throne I am lord of the grave Commanding forces by decree Long riddled with disease They reap but do not sow I am lord of the grave