Landing on the Mountains of Meggido

Lords, can it be mistakes?

Throughout the constant vows

Of the lost and gone, blind and wrongInside a faith without a home

A fire that is cold

But grows so well, who's to tell about it allA nation cannot see

The hardest part to take

Is not for me, the dyin' treesThis is what wars are made of

HauntedThe readings cracked and grey and plagiarized to date

Altered by the bastards

Of pure disguise of seas and skiesThe pagan drums should wake, the sleeping of the fools

To forget the Church's language

Who's the fool, me or you?The greatest mask of fate, the longest battle through

The text of great predictions

For me and you, the old and newThis is what wars are made of

Haunted