AlmostWhitey

We’re dwelling at the dusk of fate, Inside a verdant, tranquil glade, But peaceful life is just façade; In every mind resides a shade And everything is shrouded. Our end is near, yet none can see The threads of fate and the decree Of those who had their bodies flee, Becoming dark and clouded. The devil and the prophet sing As to my sister’s form I cling, Yet I can see the painful sting The sickness brought to that poor thing; In mystery it’s shrouded. She's laying there, betwixt the sheets, She coughs and cries and hopes and bleeds While I am looking for the leads, Towards a cure still clouded. The lunar teardrops guide our way, Through thunderclouds of shades we fray, Through tragedy and great dismay, So that she’ll see another day; The morrow still lies shrouded. We see the heartache in our foe, The seeds of shadow we did sow And finally, the truth and lo, The dawn of light unclouded.

Man sagte einst, das Schwert entscheide, Dass sonst der Leib des Volkes leide Und dass der Nachbar uns beneide, Nun liegt der Körper auf der Heide In einem aufgewühlten Grab. Die Hölle ist ein Feld in Flandern, Hier sterben wir und auch die Ander’n Wo uns‘re Gräben sich mäandern Und Stacheldraht das Land umwarb. Seit Stahlgewitter erstmal krachten Und wir mit uns das Unheil brachten, Bleibt uns in Ypern nur das Schlachten Und wo dereinst noch Kinder lachten, Ist Chlorgas nun der Stunde Kind. Die Blinden folgen hier den Blinden, Den wohl versproch’nen Ruhm zu finden Und doch sich nur im Matsch zu winden, Wo blut‘ges Wasser nie verrinnt. Vier Schlachten müssen wir ertragen, Der Menschlichkeit in uns entsagen Und jede Nacht den Ausfall wagen, Wo viele schon dem Krieg erlagen Und starben tief im Niemandsland. Australier, Franzosen, Briten, Die Deutschen und noch mehr gerieten Schon in die Mühle und beknieten Den Himmel, der im Qualm verschwand. Wir werfen uns dem Feind

I. Gods of War Finally, the war is turning As the high point has been reached. Gettysburg is torn and burning After Union soil was breached. Tens of thousands get their orders, Gods and generals await, Standing on the city borders, To decide the Nation’s fate. Fray ensues between the factions, Many days it will go on. Lee’s and Meade’s and Longstreet’s actions Will bring forth a brand new dawn. In the woods the lines are solid, Carolinians attack. As the battle’s getting squalid, Iron Black Hats hold them back. On the Round Top, Maine is fighting Down the slope and hand to hand. No more ammo, blades are biting, Chamberlain has made a stand. II. Battle Hymns and Killing Fields Guns are blazing, men are dying, Blue and Gray fall side by side. Shot and wounded sons are crying, Troops get murdered in their stride. As they fall, the men are praying, Cut like cattle in their prime. Earth turns red and skies are graying As assaults are crushed in grime. Drummers play the tunes of

We’re dwelling at the dusk of fate, Inside a verdant, tranquil glade, But peaceful life is just façade; In every mind resides a shade And everything is shrouded. Our end is near, yet none can see The threads of fate and the decree Of those who had their bodies flee, Becoming dark and clouded. The devil and the prophet sing As to my sister’s form I cling, Yet I can see the painful sting The sickness brought to that poor thing; In mystery it’s shrouded. She's laying there, betwixt the sheets, She coughs and cries and hopes and bleeds While I am looking for the leads, Towards a cure still clouded. The lunar teardrops guide our way, Through thunderclouds of shades we fray, Through tragedy and great dismay, So that she’ll see another day; The morrow still lies shrouded. We see the heartache in our foe, The seeds of shadow we did sow And finally, the truth and lo, The dawn of light unclouded.

Voll Würde sitzt sie an der Linken Der Dichter, die ins Sinnen sinken Und als sie die Gedanken trinken, Gebiert die Muse einen Vers. Inspiration beginnt zu keimen Und Kalliope gibt den Reimen, Die in der Dichter Köpfe feimen, Gestalt aus den Ideen dispers. Auch mir, mit meinem Kiel zur Rechten, Führt sie die Hand, als wollt‘ ich fechten, Umso Essenz zum Werk zu flechten, Sodass sich mehrt das spärlich‘ Wort. Die Muse lächelt voller Güte Denn schon steht’s Epos in der Blüte Und wo sich der Poet noch mühte, Ist’s nun vollbracht – die Muse fort. Man sieht ihr nach und muss sich grämen! Wenn Musenküsse öfter kämen, Dann müsst‘ man öfter sich nicht schämen, Wenn Genius bleibt wieder fern. Doch zwischen Lyrik und der Leere, Gefangen in des Grübelns Schwere, Quält stets man sich für diese hehre Göttin, denn man sieht sie gern.

For aeons they have halted The Eye, the Black Crusades. The might of all the Cadian troops Has kept us from the shades. They stood against the darkness, Their blood was mankind’s shield. Eternal duty, pride, and skill They had on every field. Humanity must thank them, For endless foes they’ve faced. Remember Creed, his finest men, The horrors they’ve erased. We praise the hero planet, These saints who held the line, The Cadians who gave their lives And let their courage shine. We honor all the fallen, To glory they are bound. The Emperor may smile upon Their sacrifice renowned. The fortress world has fallen, But Cadia still stands. The planet broke before the guard, Their lasguns still in hands. We’re cursing the Despoiler, His efforts were in vain. We will strike back with vengeance grim And show his legions pain. The battlecry soon echoes Throughout galactic dark. The stand of Cadia’s martyrs Has lit a righteous spark.

We’re dwelling at the dusk of fate, Inside a verdant, tranquil glade, But peaceful life is just façade; In every mind resides a shade And everything is shrouded. Our end is near, yet none can see The threads of fate and the decree Of those who had their bodies flee, Becoming dark and clouded. The devil and the prophet sing As to my sister’s form I cling, Yet I can see the painful sting The sickness brought to that poor thing; In mystery it’s shrouded. She's laying there, betwixt the sheets, She coughs and cries and hopes and bleeds While I am looking for the leads, Towards a cure still clouded. The lunar teardrops guide our way, Through thunderclouds of shades we fray, Through tragedy and great dismay, So that she’ll see another day; The morrow still lies shrouded. We see the heartache in our foe, The seeds of shadow we did sow And finally, the truth and lo, The dawn of light unclouded.

We’re dwelling at the dusk of fate, Inside a verdant, tranquil glade, But peaceful life is just façade; In every mind resides a shade And everything is shrouded. Our end is near, yet none can see The threads of fate and the decree Of those who had their bodies flee, Becoming dark and clouded. The devil and the prophet sing As to my sister’s form I cling, Yet I can see the painful sting The sickness brought to that poor thing; In mystery it’s shrouded. She's laying there, betwixt the sheets, She coughs and cries and hopes and bleeds While I am looking for the leads, Towards a cure still clouded. The lunar teardrops guide our way, Through thunderclouds of shades we fray, Through tragedy and great dismay, So that she’ll see another day; The morrow still lies shrouded. We see the heartache in our foe, The seeds of shadow we did sow And finally, the truth and lo, The dawn of light unclouded.

One is bound by fate and shackles, Huddled behind iron bars. As above the fire crackles, There she sits with unseen scars. Silently she tends the fire, Has no tongue to speak her mind. Why she’s trapped when souls require Guiding hands and solace kind? One is standing by the ocean, For she calls no shrine her own, Urgently sets things in motion, Pointing to a vacant throne. Resolute she tends the fire, Has no kin but knows two sides. A conclusion’s her desire, To complete the crowning rites. One of them seeks lords of ember Who forsake what must be done. When all left, she did remember, Searching ash, for spark was gone. Gracefully she tends the fire, Has no eyes to see a way Where she falters and would tire Or loose faith and go astray. One there is, tormented maiden, Keeps alive, what’s long since dead. With her sister’s fate she’s laden, Witch of chaos, full of dread. Agonized she tends the fire, Hidden flame that none can see. Monstrous fusion, fate so dire, Wishes only to be

Voll Würde sitzt sie an der Linken Der Dichter, die ins Sinnen sinken Und als sie die Gedanken trinken, Gebiert die Muse einen Vers. Inspiration beginnt zu keimen Und Kalliope gibt den Reimen, Die in der Dichter Köpfe feimen, Gestalt aus den Ideen dispers. Auch mir, mit meinem Kiel zur Rechten, Führt sie die Hand, als wollt‘ ich fechten, Umso Essenz zum Werk zu flechten, Sodass sich mehrt das spärlich‘ Wort. Die Muse lächelt voller Güte Denn schon steht’s Epos in der Blüte Und wo sich der Poet noch mühte, Ist’s nun vollbracht – die Muse fort. Man sieht ihr nach und muss sich grämen! Wenn Musenküsse öfter kämen, Dann müsst‘ man öfter sich nicht schämen, Wenn Genius bleibt wieder fern. Doch zwischen Lyrik und der Leere, Gefangen in des Grübelns Schwere, Quält stets man sich für diese hehre Göttin, denn man sieht sie gern.

Sunken in a scarlet slumber, In your flesh the rot abides, Sitting by decaying lumber As your brother’s will subsides. Arm of solid, war-torn metal, All around the lilies shine. Seasoned steel will flare in battle, Stained by poisoned heart and vine. Blooming Fury, undefeated, Fought the Starscourge to a halt. To the roots you have retreated, Aggravated, yet appalled. O Malenia, the weary Sword arm of your kindred god! Fate of Miquella, so dreary, Drove you to accept the rot. Horror they shall all be knowing, Writhing flesh and deadly air. On your golden wings you’re sowing Seeds of sickness and despair. Monarchs of vermilion color Scatter from the Haligtree, To bring forth decay and squalor, So your nightmare they will see. Lost yourself and lost your laurels, What you were is gone and dead. All that’s left is rotting morals And the plague that you have spread. Once again the rot is blooming Creeping ‘neath the butterflies. Your own self you are consuming, Goddess of the rot will