Down by the river of broken vows
Stands a village of quaking boughs

Welcome all beneath their virulent canopy
Set them against the mortal panoply
Then subject them to the apathy

Cycle through the naive souls
See which ones hold

Season after season, treason after treason
Yield more territory without reason

Claim the world is rotten through
Maybe it's the rot in you

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Aeguary, in the year 996 AF.