Poetry

Deep down in the fiery pits of hell
war has started if you couldn’t tell.
The burning souls are screaming,
the demons eyes are gleaming,
they kneel down before the devils throne.
 
He’s the one of power, giving the commands,
for each he has the devious of plans.
The red hot flames are prancing,
as the devil starts dancing,
he’s scorching each man’s bones.
 
Seeing darkness when you look in his eyes,
collecting cruel spirits each time one dies.
High above the dark angels now flying,
all the damned begin crying,
in one piercing echoing moan.



S.A.B. 2002