Dark Horse

Covet ire, scabbard empty
Wounded-warrior, fool

Emblazoned indignation writs
Does it have to be you?

Shoulder arcs, dagger turns, eclipsing Sun to plunge

Flag above the zeitgeist
Hand and pommel draw near into amalgamation

Spire in storm, it is fowling
This is reckoning

Phantom strides inside the mire
Blade clashes in the glade

And I the spectre wound the pyre marketh by thy name
Burn you whole, to my Eden
To your envy's gaze

Shoulder arcs, dagger turns, eclipse the Sun to plunge
High above the steeple
Hand and pommel draw near into amalgamation

Spire in storm, fetter in rage
This is reckoning
Phantom strides inside the mire
Blade clashes in the glade

And I the spectre wound the pyre marketh by thy name
Burn you whole, to my Eden, to your envy's gaze