The Four

The Four

One to Four,
We ride together,
Conquest and Death;
Famine and War.

Standing over the defeated,
Everything falls in the end,
Hear my cries of victory,
See the vanquished scourge,
Mortal kind will now descend;

And be slaughtered at my hand,
Mindless and gory beyond comprehension,
They fight me,
They fight each other,
The endless destruction is beautiful;

And they starve,
Withdrawn, looking like skin and bone,
No flesh or thickness,
No more crops,
No more harvest,

Except the harvest of souls,
As I, the pale rider,
Death on horseback,
Watch the culling of mankind.

We are four riders,
The sky will be aflame,
Blood will run and they will run,
Screaming into the blackness of death,
When Armageddon comes.