Feast of the Black Archons (Acrid Tomb)

City of serpentine construct Streets swollen with shambling dead Black archons looming on high Masquerade of decay A cathedral, thousand spired Come unto the long shore Breathe deep Consume thy exigent flame Boneless maw enveloping whole Row on row of pitiable husks What dim light lingered then In their eyes fades at last The archons swell with lust Their hunger growing evermore A thousand souls devoured Yet wholly unsatiated The masquerade endures A neverending host, damned Salivating for their servitude Black Archons looming on high Streets emptied and still The bile and rot on the tiles Last proof of final compact