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Famines' horse is black
Fallow ground 'neath his hoof
From the sky rains hail
Lack of food his tipping scale
Conquest he is the antichrist
Riding a steed of white
Striking with militant drones
Killings souls from his mighty bow
War he rides on red
With a sword he takes your head
Contempt of life
Creating chaos and strife
And behold, there came four chariots from between two mountains, and the mountains Were mountains of brass
Deaths stallion is pale
Standing on top the hill
Ancient ways restored
Unlock the demon horde
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