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By the moons, heist, and all of the light
Above the earth to roam
To enveil that which never was
And never to become

The moon rose, was crimson in color
Lighted its coming form
That once crushed to the made.
It ever comes again
And again, and again
And again, and again
And again, and again

The moon shone with a fuller red
Of crossed be drawn to the earth
What once has been shall be no more
Dead in graves is heist
It is
In graves

By the Moon's haze and Northern Moonlight.
Upon the Earth he rode.
He seeks that which never was
and never (is) to become.
The Moon rose, it was crimson in color,
as if the night saw the coming fall
that once crushed your domain.
It ever comes again.

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