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

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