Despair (Liber Chaotica Nurgle - Song of Death)

Despair all ye nations, deny not the sick,
For our blood is like water where once it was thick.
And our minds have grown leaden, our bodies gone weak,
And venom pours from our lips whenever we speak.

Despair all ye nations, for the time draws apace,
When the rot of the cynic shall steal our good grace.
And our sweetest of dreams shall fade to lost hope,
Our pride and our arrogance; our noose and our rope.

Despair all ye nations, see years drawing on,
Our great cultures are fading and soon they’ll be gone.
So conceited our scholars, they jeer through their teeth,
With their theories so shallow – quite soulless beneath.

Despair all ye nations, for the ending is near,
When the Lord of Lost Heart shall govern us with fear
Our weakness unfetters as we face this unknown,
And our faith trails to nothing; we stand here alone.

Despair all ye nations, the Corruptor has come,
And the sad days of the world are nearing the sum.
For the shining ideals through endeavours we sought,
Grow sour as he passes and are coming to nought.

Despair all ye nations, there’s no hope for us now,
For we made this monster, placed a crown on his brow.
He fed on our apathy; our pain made him swell,
We gave him Dominion, he gives us his Hell.