Cunning minds
lost in transmigration
escaping,
my crying voice
leads their path.

Agoraphobes of the depths
eluding death,
chased by upcoming disease.
In open lands - they're lost without me.

Without our frith
beside you
(in the dark)
the thousands that hunt you down,
from the shadows,
will overwhelm your mind.

The scent of death...

Open your eyes, invoke the strength of our kind.

I am the seer
possessed by the signs.

For you my brothers
I'll increase our faith,
I speak of blood and fire.

The man-made crushers
will come in time
(with machine-claws)
infecting burrows of our labyrinth lives

All of our lives
Leaving behind

Open your mind, and speak of our world,
we run,
give us strength to run -

our lord the sun, give us gifts to hide.

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