Ghosts with gentle voices, calling us never to wake, 
And we see another nation rising from the ashes... 
Soon to unearth what we cannot escape, 
As timre draws near for all of us

Make amend, dear tyrant
And be my [bad word] 
Through horrors' eye we'll seek vision lost to the sheep; 
Rapt and fitfully chained

Hear the [bad word] #39; sound! 
The angels of discord are gathering; 
Such beautiful faces, such poisonous tongues; 
dead world assembly... 
Into the world you brought me, 
And after your world you wrought me
With a finger to your mouth
And I lost myself in the sea; 
Carrying the waves of time
There's nothing to believe, 
And you ask me why I grieve

Make amend, dear tyrant
And be my [bad word] 
Through horrors' eye we'll seek vision lost to the sheep; 
Rapt and fitfully chained

"Earth raised up her head
From the darkness' dread and drear
Her light fled, and her locks covered with grey despair"

Hear the [bad word] #39; sound! 
Our empire stifles and [bad word] 
This terrible loss will generate us, 
Gone from this dead world assembly... 

Here is the void
Here is the cross we carry with us
Through this dead world assembly