Daemonic

A darkness embraces
The beings all around
Everything seems dead
Absolutely no sound

Black, hooded creatures
Vaguely can be known
As once blood and flesh
Skin now, a pale tone

Secretly gathering
The masses form
To worship plain evil
Such a perfect storm

Working towards goals
Not fully believed
They never will know
When it is achieved

Suspended in the midst
Poor and helpless life
Countless to be slain
Certainly, by same knife

Just one by one
Blood sprays the floor
Soft spot on their throat
Fast way to the core

These inhuman slaves
Misguided young souls
Must face God's wrath
Once their bell tolls

Until then they'll go
Stealing young and old
The devil doesn't choose
Whose souls should be sold