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Beyond the shimmering gates of crimson,
A light sparks from beneath billows of time.
Beneath crystal rivers of weeping ebony,
Where reflects the tattered skyline,
And infernal specks of falling dusk,
A brightness shimmers in its blackest recesses.
Beyond our conception, insane...

Transcribe, oh prophet, the clockwork of angels,
Translate, oh seer, the language of the void,
Which looms above us feeble scum.
Worms of the Earth beneath the un-loving sun,
We are but sand is to the wind (in his eyes),
And yet on we shall worship, to the end of our lives.

Sacrificial skies...

(Hail our lord, the god in the sky,
To whom we feed flesh, in wrathful appeasement...)

Yet a light now glows behind this black horizon,
The morning sun, breaking through the dark...
As if a blade greeting flesh, the churning void was torn,
And gazing on, a beautiful new world was born.

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