She begs her wretched God from a cage of her own design,
He rises from the orchard filled with trees of wasted lives,
The time has come to feast on every soldier,
Bloody skies.
When the rebels came to conquer,
She's the Queen they left to die.
She took the crown with her beauty and grace,
Then she ruled with ruthless hate.
They move through every village,
The stench of blood underneath her nails.
This Queen and her wretched God,
Come forth encased in serpent scales.
She'll draw her blade and catch the sun before he hides his face.
And in the morning, before dawn,
The corpses take her place.
She took the crown with her beauty and grace,
Then she ruled with ruthless hate.
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