Ill Divine

Presumed dead, but not so easily exhumed dead remains unsightly Processed cold post death indignity defiled soul impurity Fiends of the night enshrouded Encloned for him they work forced labor till dawn Townships deplete exiled to misery The signs he sends you follow First the girl then your brother His workers disguised to eliminate Your friends companion irrelevant Each town a trap you enter With hope to end this murder [chorus:] Morningside - Where it all began Ill Divine - Boy take my hand I won't become your servant I only want my brother back In spirit he guides shows us secrets He helps us with when we discover Passage to your underworld Deadly flying metal spheres