Blessed Are the Dead

The great silent mirror
Under the stars and the moon
Sounds of galloping horses
On clouds of lightning and thunder
A dark and gathering storm
To scorch the earth for many generations
A new winter, worse than any
Called the holy war

A white horse on the clouds of death
A red war horse to end all wars
A pale horse in pastilets led by
A black horse with famine at his gails

The doctrine of hatred
Nation will rise against nation
Wash me in blood and let me be
The first born of the dead
A crown rider with arrows and bow
A rare rider with a great fiery sword
Lakes come from the one called death
Horror and Apocalypse follows
Moons two full horsemen ride again
Their fathers kingdom spun to kingdom come
I hold fast to what I believe
Till I see my name stone
Blessed are the dead

A white horse on the bowels of death
A red war horse to end all wars
A pale horse in pastilets led by
A black horse with famine at his gails

The synagogue of Satan
Nation will rise against nation
Wash me in blood, and let me be
The first born of the dead
A crown rider with arrows and bow
A rare rider with a great fiery sword
Lakes come from the one called death
Horror and Apocalypse follows
Moons two full horsemen ride again
Their fathers kingdom spun to kingdom come
I hold fast to what I believe
Till I see my name stone
Blessed are the dead