Arisen from the flame of creation Made in the icon of the paradigm Conquerors of the stars above The first Men, perfect creations Slave to His whim As he says, not as he does Masters of the salt, silt, and Earth An offering demanded By God His grace entitled to the Favored ones A battle raged To earn empyrean grace The fallen bear the Brand, forevermore A plague endured for ten Thousand years beyond We are his scorge, a flawed creation We are his spawn Abandoned here on Earth Empty words fill our Hearts with hope A vacant throne Sits atop the stars Humankind A vagrant race of Murderers We shall fulfill What creator ordained Slaughter and conquer God's Creation Is wicked and vile What fate awaits The spawn of Man? Made in the image Of the paragon All of Man Harbouring the Mark of Cain