Arkaik - Fleshwalkers

Shamans of the dark elite
Shape shifting wretched fumes
Controlling insomniatic fleets
Demiurge rotting all
Making life a living grave
Raining on the freewill
of the slaves
Chained to mortal ties,
forbidden inner wealth
The holders of the veil
Blindly kneeling to the tyrant
Ever present, always silent
Swift as knives, dark as ash
Gatekeepers in heavy scourge
An army omnipresent,
catatonic masses
A culling on the masters strings
Do speak of them and
their disguise
His legion keeps
the prison intact
Spiraling degradation Morphing malevolent
creature force
A trampling stampede
upon their minds a bleak
prison of descent
A psychic will,
The force that binds
A shadow moon blood sacrifice
His army of dark magis,
Spells cast in hatreds tongue
If you don't know who you are
You won't know
What you've become
Held in place by black magic
Blind the shatters reach
Fractured and kept in blackness
Words disaster speaks
Without knowledge
Of higher planes
Robbed of our true knowing
To be fed on by the tyrant
Wasted and broken