arkhangelsk

willed by winter stronghold fast

fixed in anxiety's firm grip

the frost that burned the honorees

underneath the heavy clouds

the lifted sword

the broken shield

the hand that drew the final word

from the frozen mouth of arkhangelsk

let them go

let them burn the world to cinders

let their heads hang down

falling through the tungsten skies

the burning clouds of arkhangelsk

to the eye of judgement now

one will stand in time of the end?

sun to stone

air to fire

all to nothing and nothing to nil

they gather

groaning to the sounds

of the grinding wheels of arkhangelsk

with one word

one movement in the fabric

everything dies

the storm that sweeps the world away

from the frozen plains of arkhangelsk

inherit from the morning star

what others brought

and the land forgot

soaring through van allen belts

through blazing stars

through dying suns

collide not now

but carry us

through the burning air of arkhangelsk