Upon the fevered dreams of shattered suns the ghosts of summer lay
And as the ashes fall I stand alone in terminal decay
The seasons cry to me, the wind blows cold with empty, hollow sound
The remnants of what was but will not be are coming crashing down

The Earth lays fallow in embrace of dying radiant caress
The seas are solemn and the driftwood disappears among the waves
And as I stand alone, I feel the minutes burn
Another season left to ruin with prayers of forlorn return.

In searing light we are exposed
For what we are, for what we were
In searing light we are exposed
For what we are for what we were
In searing light we are exposed
For what we never cared to know
In searing light we are exposed
For what we never thought to learn

Like phoenix descending from above
Like flowers of flame
Like seasons rewriting the epilogue
Of forbidden names
A pillar of truth on shining wings
Impossibly bright
I care not for what the seasons bring
In the radiant light

And so the Cenotaph was built upon the ruins of their dream
Where bone and faith lay next to tears of penitent machine
The awkward legacies of ash and tepid moments of despair
Forgotten monuments to vanity in sullen disrepair

And as we stand alone, the last of our ill-begotten kind
I see the dreams of summer vanish in the waterfalls of time
The fading daylight casts a glow upon the shadows of the past
And every labored breath I take is one less to my last

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