Slaves of Slaved Masters

Slaves shall serve as crowns are falling,
slaves shall serve their masters even as they are dying,
slaves shall serve not themselves,
slaves shall serve never themselves!

Fathers have served,
their time has past,
ours has come!
There is work to be done!

We shoulder our dark masters,
shouldering their masters.
We are piled to a pyramid,
a never ending staircase.

There is no top to the pattern,
there is no end to serving,
we all serve our master,
who serves his master.

Still we live,
grip for the sky,
reaching for something that isn't there,
churning the cauldron,

mixing the deceased,
to brew new slaves,
the pathetic meatbags,
will climb over each other,

and plummet below,
to their harsh end,
decrepit and rotting,
our time is coming to an end.

The rage of the Heavens will rain,
as Hell breaks loose,
with the Devil's children,
and God's angels on us,

We will not escape the rain of fire,
our anarchic reign will last forever,
we will continue to climb one another,
even in death, we will fight.

Conflict is unavoidable,
there is no escaping purpose,
it doesn't matter what one does,
you are stuck or you fall.

No one can climb,
the levels are set,
we are all slaves to one another,
we all serve not ourselves but others.

Drink the last drop,
as your life runs dry,
the well of eternity has collapsed,
and a dark storm awaits us all.