Gone The World 'revelations' Poem by The Lastdon

Oh but rider he has come,

as pale as the wishes and prayers of the some,

a will of he to break,

a soul for he shall make,

a poison to his mind for maggots left to take,

a burrow in the sand,

a plague across the lands,

a fate that was yet but taken, where a prayer used to stand,

an rejoice it once again, for it is not a man,

so beg onto your knees the gospel if you can,

as for certain i will sye, the words in which you cry,

the testament of his glory, is in the cradle in which we lie.