Pain Confessor

Furnace glows in far horizon
Crowd is there to blame
Yes, the harvest of creation
Books will burn again
Lines of faceless humans
Walk into the sea
Waves of men with no expressions
Eyes have lost their gleam
Power guides the mindless ones
Like a moth to the flame of deceit
A storm is rising again
A war is coming again
Black swarms of locusts hide the sun
Plagued fields of east
Tainted grains in the endless field
A war is coming again
Feeding on sorrow, harvesting pain
They will never stop the destruction
Their scythe will rend again
Souls ablaze with hatred