the calamitous age goes on
we keep on tempting fate
And we will not comprehend 
until we meet our bitter end
(the) signs radiate with vigour
but ignored by the plebeians
our end shines a thousand suns bright
with none to behold the sight
the grandest damnation
all by our hands
Pride will be our fall
We will meet in hell
We
pretend
Our end will never come
We 
Have failed
To turn the tide around
the grandest damnation
all by our hands
Pride will be our fall
We will meet in hell
so (the) calamity is perfect
Our fate has tempted us
it lets a noble pallor extend as
We (all turn to dust) /(face the bitter end)
The grim reaper only leaves
corpses to defile
For the rats to pick them bleak
as this hell inherits the meek