Из альбома: Breath of the Demiurg

What's built will soon be gone destroyed by the scorndogs
The creations withered like sand they scatter for the wind
No thing will ever last downfall arise
So feeble in your quest all is vain forever

Scorn empire live these last days in pain

They will not last your creations will all die
They cannot ever be more than a dream of forever
Such scorned labour the one of creation

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