The poem of Chris's struggle agents evil Wyatt in the unchanged future
The poem of Chris's struggle agents evil Wyatt in the unchanged future.
Valley of the Death
The death I seen through my unholy eyes
Beckon now the present
The future of nothing but rubble
Despair and fear
Them who fall may pick themselves up
But then the great storm of evil comes
Then gone though the fog of death
Then nothing more
The endless pit of nothing
The ones who fight fall
Only few left standing
Fall as the mighty go
Then nothing more just endless night
This is my life
Through my eyes
Those eyes which are always stained with fear
That's my life