Death Flourished in a Withered Grove

Death flourished in a withered grove
 With bleeding tendrils that the corpses wove
 Desiccated, risen from earth
 From the virulent strain, a new era is birthed
 Death has found a way
 It feeds upon mankind dismay
 It yearns to tip the scales
 And shatter the balance that was once so frail
 One by one the bodies rise
 With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
 Cremation undone, They're poised to become
 The impetus of man's demise
 Beasts of scriptures long gone
 With Fangs, Claws and seven-foot jaws
 They howl scream and shriek in the night
 Taunting the men who are too scared to fight
 The lurking shadows are circling the altars
 Leaving a trail marked with grime, soot, and mud
 Unsealed, they cross, leaping the threshold of churches
 Finally committing atrocities echoed in tomes writ in blood
 Like scum, writhing in the waste
 No mercy, not a trace
 Razor talons drag upon the face
 Soaring overhead, the damned wyverns of the dead
 Beset with the thrill of the outbreaks' first kill
 Denounce your poultry gods
 And tread the path once trod
 The ancients found a way
 To deliver yourselves from this bane
 One by one the bodies rise
 With limbs and face rotted and sinewy eyes
 Cremation undone, They're poised to become
 The impetus of man's demise
 Death has flourished albeit a bit malnourished
 Her needs arise with vain contempt
 For the One the darkness tempts
 Honing the one, honing the one
 Honing the one who will be death's earth-born son
 Honing the one, honing the one
 Honing the one who will blot out the Sun
 Death has flourished and sank her fangs into reverent lambs
 As wolves unto sheep, She's preyed on the meek
 Mobilizing towards the Nazarene
 Torn between a life obscene, with obelisks risen to remind the deed
 The remnants of the old ways carry on throughout the dread filled day.