Take up your arms; there's menace among us,
and we, we are it's demise.
Deep in the firs, where a tyrant abides,
we'll make our abode.
Four hundred schemers as one,
and a titan at mercy
of what's deemed must be done.
So conceit be blinding,
and guide sightless t'wards peril - be.
Tree needles shake like the terrified,
to the rumblings of colossal gait;
Zipacna arrives.
This mighty trunk fell before you
causes great chagrin for lesser men.
Lend your strength
and we'll suffer the snickering arrogance,
as beneath soil you slip from our coil.
Place timber below,
while we rain ruin on your form,
'til in the mandibles of arthropods remnants rise,
and we rejoice in the casualty.
Our construct complete,
as our home, as your tombstone,
we drink to the damning of your soul,
but does dirt still stir?
Might the mind still devise?
Crash of clamourous chaos splits the air,
which we so swiftly occupy,
raising through clouds,
through heavens, to stars.
So long as spirits burn,
will the subterranean eruption of he haunt we,
Pleiades.
