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Coffinspire: multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision!

by Norma Jean

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They rest on the coast and the tide is impending.
We pull at the motionless and static,
But the torrent has crowned their heads.
It fills their ears, it makes them ill. Well,
They do not struggle at all.
This will speak of the end, and will not prove through what God has set down.
Move on with the weapons of faith and love. Face God, never face another.
Synchronize your steps to the sound of gods.
This world has done too well. What it takes a revelation.
This is a shallow grave we´re digging.
It´s on the highest rise, we stood on its highest crest.
I´ll set myself on fire.
Come on, watch me burn.

Poisoned now enough to kill ten hundred men. Blinded,
Synchronize your steps to the sound of gods.
Taken all your steps to the sound of gods.
The harvester´s mouth has not gone dry.
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