Within the darkest hour, when the dragon releases its power;
They feel the urge to meet.
To share and to intertwine.
Beneath the leader of the horde, men and demons are sworn.
To kill and grant his grace;
They are reflections of the master's face.
The night is young and fresh with the sense of macabre on its breath.
Scattered, they form a pattern to be seen from the sky.
If crimson was your colour, could your conscience bear your soul?
Would you paint the place with murder?
Spirit's breath, so cool.
They are cowards, falling from their own grace.
Infiltrating, penetrating within.
Rounding up and marching into the womb.
Catatonic, spending time in sin.
A heart of a new born baby that has been slain.
Just a few grammatical changes, as well as adding in the last line that was missed out.
Within the darkest hour, when the dragon releases its power; They feel the urge to meet. To share and to intertwine.
Beneath the leader of the horde, men and demons are sworn. To kill and grant his grace; They are reflections of the master's face.
The night is young and fresh with the sense of macabre on its breath. Scattered, they form a pattern to be seen from the sky.
If crimson was your colour, could your conscience bear your soul? Would you paint the place with murder? Spirit's breath, so cool.
They are cowards, falling from their own grace. Infiltrating, penetrating within. Rounding up and marching into the womb. Catatonic, spending time in sin.
A heart of a new born baby that has been slain.
Just a few grammatical changes, as well as adding in the last line that was missed out.