Tranquil and mechanic; Began the separation of life from these hands.
The future dim. The city burns.
Now coming are the days of growing dark when all will wonder: Where are you?

All was lost, then was found.
Take these words mark them well.
Stone may crumble and air turn stale.
But standing until the end of time, it will be there at the end of the world.
Embrace it tight, this end this hope.

And I, will not run from the dark this time.
You are the light that is in my hands.
Burning so bright. Burning so bright.
Taking away my sense of fright.

I will not run from the dark.

And I, will not run from the dark this time.
You are the light that is in my hands.
Burning so bright. Burning so bright.
Taking away my sense of fright.

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