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Served was his head but still he could see far, far away |
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Their open plains, their open fields |
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Where rivers ran with bloos they lifted his body |
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Drenced in summerian black waters of sin |
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Clipped are the wings of this angel |
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His voice has been silenced |
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Stripped he has been limb from limb |
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The passage lies open, they are all written down word by word |
|
their author, lord of cryptic seas |
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Celestian guardian of their tale and scriptures |
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Lead them to the fire burning |
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and they shall grow |
|
When all this had been done his sight was still upon them |
|
Neither day nor night his eyes would shut |
