Pathed Shadow's, Salt on the Wind From the Testimonies of Wandering project.

Rolls, tipping from the dinner's fold The shroud shall not feast, a table
Grasps and grasps
They ponder valves and gateways
The dogs won't eat up the dribble
"Right, where we the chosen few?" Mounting fools, plastered jewels
Within parables of death and sword
Told a tale of the ageless Man
Wars, barking torn words to the sword Never-the-less a replication of their gods
Unto the world from desolation sights
"Follow me to the gate eternal"
Oh they praised, apologies won't tumble
Jewels of the foul lip
Told a tale of the ageless Man
Snatched up the dinner's fold
Cracked splinters, the dog's can't hide under the table
Where the air, no longer blesses their sight