Julie Christmas:
Days left of fall, the dimming light falls
Our fighting soldiers home to rest.
And shadows watching out,
To wage a raging war.
victory for all I see.
Ashes crowd the air, as silence scars the air.
history of dreams collide.

MOTA:
You can see it on their faces,
Smell it on their lips,
generation of ghosts,
Lost and weak.
Fade away.
What little of love left within me,
Has been bled dry... and buried.

Julie:
Ashes crowd the air, as silence scars the air.
history of dreams collide.
fallen friend then speaks,
wasted round of dreams,
history of dreams collide.

MOTA:
I will sing with the end of all things.