Walk to,
precursor that stands,
in front of this living creation

Spoken with pace
In this sacred space
The gears are starting to tremble

It lifts up its hand
From this golden strand of fiber,
Stops, and it waits there.

Turning its head,
Awake from the dead.
The gears are starting to tremble.

Now by this time,
It’s straightened its spine,
Looks down to its chest of silver.

Reaching it hand
To this withered man,
The gears are starting to tremble.

Shadow and doom
Are gone from this room
Where I sit,
Sheltered by seaside.

Lambent gold heart
Shall tear me apart,
My gears are starting to tremble,
My gears are starting to tremble.