Where The End Begins…

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I come in silence, veiled in mist, a shadow riding through the dawn,
A harbinger with iron fist, the sickness born where hope is gone.
No clash of swords, no battle cries, just whispers curling through the air,
In every breath, a deathly prize, a world undone by my despair.

I am the plague that none can see, the creeping doom that bends the knee,
A silent conqueror’s decree, the end of all begins with me…

I ride first on a sickly steed, bringing all plagues and disease,
My gifts will spread, to cure the world from the rot of humanity.
Conquest is my goal, and I do so without a fight,
The embodiment of the Antichrist, to bring eternal night.

Through cities grand and fields of grain, my touch is cold, my air is death,
I weaken kings, I break the chain, the world succumbs with every breath.
Not by sword, but by decay, I claim the lands with unseen hand,
A silent war that none can sway, until the skies no longer stand.

No armies march, no banners wave,
Just silent death, no soul to save.
The air is thick with whispered lies,
As hope and life both slowly die…

I ride first on a sickly steed, bringing all plagues and disease,
My gifts will spread, to cure the world from the rot of humanity.
Conquest is my goal, and I do so without a fight,
The embodiment of the Antichrist, to bring eternal night.

I am the plague that none can see,
The shadow in your memory.
A quiet force that claims the earth,
To usher in the final birth.
No clash of swords, no battle cries,
Just silent death that never dies.
I am the shadow on the breeze,
The whisper carried by the seas.

Beneath the crown, the serpent coils, the seed of ruin sown in soil,
A subtle hand that guides the spoil, the first to break the sacred toil.
Look close and see conquest’s face, beneath my pestilential grace,
The herald of the final race, the shadow cast across all space.

In every heart, the darkness grows,
A seed of ruin no one knows.
I am the sickness, cold and vast,
The future’s ghost, the haunted past.
Through every city, every land,
My silent plague will take its stand.
No walls can hold, no prayers can save,
The world will kneel beneath my wave.

The world decays beneath my hand,
A twisted fate, a cursed land.
Feel the chill that cuts the bone,
A darkness creeping, all alone…

I ride first on a sickly steed, bringing all plagues and disease,
My gifts will spread, to cure the world from the rot of humanity.
Conquest is my goal, and I do so without a fight,
The embodiment of the Antichrist, to bring eternal night.

I rise from shadows cold and deep,
A harbinger where angels weep.
No sword I wield, no battle cry,
My conquest spreads beneath the sky.

So here I stand, the silent king,
No need for war, no need to swing.
The world will fall without a sound,
As I spread darkness all around.

So heed the whisper in the wind, the coming of the cursed sin,
The first to fall, the last to win, the rider’s song will soon begin.

#newsong #newmusic #metal #darkmusic