The Shape of Deaths to Come - Exhumed



An endless funeral procession marches on

Numbed and grey as they delay their slow decay into the ground

Nameless tombs amid the gloom, await like shadowed, grim cocoons

They are the dead and this dirge is their swansong



Those of the unlife infest the carcass of the world

Bloodless eyes look to the sky as their flag is unfurled

Marionettes dance out their days pulled by razor-wire strings

Inching nearer to their graves with every requiem they sing



Dust to destiny they inherit a dying world undone

An oblong box to mold them, in the shape of deaths to come

Upon battered, shredded heartstrings, their threnody strummed

Lives without meaning form the shape of deaths to come



The shape of deaths to come



Dead words fall on dead ears to fill dead time

As into their gilded coffins, they eagerly climb

To die out their last days, in a wasteful, putrid haze

And so en masse, at last they deteriorate into decline



Those of the unlife ingest the carcass of the world

Slobbering lips are licked as their banner is unfurled

Puppeteers slash a danse macabre with their razor-wire strings

Dragging us deeper into the grave with every requiem - we sing



Dust to destiny they inherit a dying world undone

An oblong box to mold them, in the shape of deaths to come

Upon battered, shredded heartstrings, their threnody strummed

Lives without meaning form the shape of deaths to come



The shape of deaths to come



[Lead - Matt]

[Lead - Bud]



Those of the unlife disgorge the carcass of the world

Onto platters of splatter as our napkins are unfurled

Led to feast on our undoing as a marionette upon its strings

As we succumb to derangement this requiem we sing