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Tincture of the Famished Part II

[Verse I — The Wastes of Withering] Across the dunes of hollowed earth, Where crops have turned to bone, The doctor stalks on splintered feet, A famine all his own. His mask is cracked from desert winds, His robes hang gaunt and torn, Yet in his grip he clutches tight A cure for hunger’s scorn. [Pre‑Chorus — The Creed of Consumption] He snarls, “No void shall conquer me, No stomach left to die.” His laughter rings like rusted bells— A starving battle cry. [Chorus — Feast of the Forsaken] He roars, “Famine, come claim me!” As the sky turns ashen gold. He scatters powders made of dreams And hunger uncontrolled. The Horseman rises, skeletal, A crown of dust and dread. Two hungers clash in barren light— A war of the unfed. [Verse II — The Devourer’s Elixir] He uncaps a flask of liquid black, A void in alchemic form. It writhes like serpents in his palm, A hunger newly born. He drinks it down—his ribs expand, His shadow splits in two. A ravenous saint of twisted science, A cure that must consume. [Pre‑Chorus II — Metabolic Madness] His heartbeat thunders like a drum, A famine turned divine. He screams, “Tonight I starve the stars Before they swallow mine.” [Chorus — Feast of the Forsaken] He roars, “Famine, come claim me!” As the sky turns ashen gold. He scatters powders made of dreams And hunger uncontrolled. The Horseman rises, skeletal, A crown of dust and dread. Two hungers clash in barren light— A war of the unfed. [Bridge — The Maw of the World] The sands erupt in spectral mouths, All begging him to feed. He grinds their pleas to bitter dust— A sacrament of need. He hurls the dust into the wind, A storm of starving souls. Famine staggers, choking on The hunger he controls. [Final Chorus — Apotheosis of the Hollow] He shrieks, “Famine, fall before me!” As the heavens crack and fade. His final draught becomes a beast Of hunger he has made. The Horseman crumbles into grit, Devoured by the cure. But in the doctor’s hollow chest A darker void endures. [Outro — The Starved Messiah] He wanders on through barren lands, A prophet carved from bone. The world is fed, but whispers say He starves the stars alone.