Cantu Mortua Profanum

A spell writ in blood upon pages made of skin Dark primeval magic conjure forth the rotting dead From thousands of years ago, hidden secret away The book is alive with malice howling in pain for blood Once it is spoken, the dead begin to repeat As they rise from the ground, the words made by their mouths The dead rise hungry, spiteful and enraged Weapons do nothing, the corpses must be destroyed A foolish man with power, speaking words he does not understand A wicked chance of fate, such negligent arrogance A weapon of such power to be used by demonic host Unleashed by a fool into a time not prepared Long before recorded history there were others here Much more powerful beings than man But in the way of mortal beings, we longed to tame their secrets There were things recorded not meant ever to be written down There were only a few at first, then there were many And their legions just continue to grow Animated malicious flesh already decomposing Soon their numbers will be in the millions A foolish man with power, speaking words he does not understand A wicked chance of fate, such negligent arrogance A weapon of such great power to be used by demonic host Unleashed by a fool into a time not prepared