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Despair has gripped the air tonite.
Eyes darting.
The town is racing for it's life.
Doors locking.
The leaves are raging on a breeze.
A warning.
Within an hour they'll be here.
They're coming.
We bolt our doors.
The skies last flame now turns to rust.
Howls on a nearby hill initiate the dusk.
And they ride...
And they ride...
And they ride...
And they ride...
Sleek cloaks of ebon tear the sky.
Dark flapping.
Accursed hooves ignite the dust.
Dark rapping.
A trail of embers lace the way.
Burnt tracking.
Before the corss we kneel and pray
for passing.
The cursed cavalry's wroght purpose
is unknown.
Extended torches lead the flight
of charging bones.
Am I, alone, the one who'll face
this lottery?
And ride forever on a fire blackened steed?
The vanishing riders
come with new moons to take an offering.
An offering, now, of a human soul.
No one knows why these hills are haunted
with encroaching cries.
Despairing mares.
No one here can leave this town alive.
A dash of fire
The flight of exposed bones.
A number will be drawn.
The vanishing riders...
The vanishing riders...
The vanishing riders...
The vanishing riders...
The... vanishing...
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