Ghastly pale is our perspective,
on this cursed side of the river.
A ruin unparalleled in humanity.
Abandon hope for a life-giver.
What lies below is food of Charon.
The sky above is a menacing gray.
Bleak and barren, this arcane land.
Death soars above to make us pay.
The necropolis aura lingers aloft.
Its deadly stench befouls the air.
Prepare to board the ferry skiff.
Hold in hand the oarsman’s fare.
This journey to the Underworld;
A voyage to the isle of no return.
The dead may accept their fate,
but our damned souls still yearn.