In shadows deep, where horrors lie,
Yawgmoth's power starts to rise.
A gathering of the morbid kind,
With undead minions in tow they find.

From swamps and tombs they heed the call,
Their master's whispers to enthrall.
With black magics and necrotic might,
They thrive in the eternal night.

Bitterblossoms bloom, a macabre sight,
As the Apocalypse Sifter reigns in the night.
A symphony of death and decay,
In Yawgmoth's domain they forever stay.

Each card a piece in this dark tale,
Where blood and shadows prevail.
For in the realm of the Thran Physician,
There is no cure, only submission.