Lord of the Grave - Undeath

Scholarly pursuits of life after death

Existing after your last breath

Skin is rotting off, vision’s nearly lost

Erudition achieved at all cost

Supersede the need to feast for creed

Existing after your last deed

Skin is rotting off, vision’s nearly lost

Erudition achieved at all cost

I hear their screams

And smell their reeking

Rotting corpses

A sickness

Growing inside of me

Gnawing at the void

Where my self should be

When

I am dead and rotten

Through death I’m begotten

Weathered over time

My bons will be forgotten

Sacrificed humanity

Long riddld with disease

Atop a bone-made throne

I am lord of the grave

Commanding forces by decree

Long riddled with disease

They reap but do not sow

I am lord of the grave