Thy Woe

Too Fleeting to Enshrine

Many Are the Dead Who Have Prayed for This Moment

Vulgaressence

Withering Rain

Furrows in the Cold Earth

Whence Glory Lay Bleeding

Drawn into the Blackest Place

Mourning the Dreams That Time's Cruel March Has Murdered

Sorrowful Phantoms Drifting in the Gloaming Wood

There Will Come Soft Rains

Hopes Wither and Dry

Cruel Fate's Design