keeper of sins and the end...

from words they made their claim
looking from death within blame.
to what becomes from them in time
as watching the clock's bell chime
that it would be of them that divides
born of them in time that hides,
of them in the darkness they claim,
as they become of the hours wait,
dividing within a shadow of fate
what was given of them in their graves
that they become in a mind of slaves
that becomes the gathering of the hour
comes in an echo of whispered prayers
that becomes of them in their scars
where in time they fall face first in shit
that in death they would travel afar
where they a come to the earth another day
that where they see of their dreams,
while the rest of mankind would fall,
that becomes of them in writings
told upon them in the invisible wall,
where they see them falling from scars.
where they hear the bell as it chimes,
which the reaper comes in their time.
looking to see the time of the obscure,
that they come haunting the future,
In prayers that are never answered
from the sixth hour, falling down
as they gathered within flames
told among pages in years of sermons
that in the sickness without a cure,
gathered among places of the plague,
from words they made their claim
seeking death from the eternal blame,
in sickness which they created,
that in words become the plague,
from birth to death of the earth,
that it would be reminders in ice
of what was the insects and lice,
in a birth of the plages that lead them
which were there in time, written in stone