The cross.

In a pool of blood stands an eternity of darkness, drowned by the false hopes of Christ’s prophets.
So the forsaken son dies at the hand of man, sewn to the eye of a heartless god.
So it is written; he who is holy shall be silenced by a torturous death, and he who is the darkness shall shine on and be heard for an eternity.

Damnation burns plenty in uncountable numbers.

To the cross of god we run, to the hills of sacrifice we crawl, bent by our hunger for life, we look to the cross for salvation.
As your savior lye in this eternal dust, we die, and we cry, and in the end we sing for the fact that we are alive.