A break in the sky,
the horizon bled above - the dream was real, the storm gathered.
The night rode on hellbound hooves, with vengeance in the saddle.
A cracked whip, a grinding maw;
a starved-eye stare and the weight of storms.
Only the trail - horseback, galloping to the pulse of the world.
The thunder, the storms.
A vengeance for the world's blood.
A tower of flesh and bone - only blood for blood will sate the storm.
At night they came, and brought with them thunder.
A warcry for what was lost.
At night they rode against oblivion, for a time that all forgot.