The God-Survivor

Cutting deep like a scalpel would: into the ground.
They try to finish work somehow, hunting the homeless.
Soon the world coming down: rise of the ruthless.
And when the atmosphere is lost, oh they defeat us.
And when the nuclear winter falls: oh they might beat us!
Save me, they’re coming.
I’m the God-Survivor.
The call of ancient prophecy, born from destruction.
Driven by death technology, breeding perfection.
And over crushed and broken bones: oh I will lead us.
And past the ruins of burning homes: oh I will feed us.