Gone is the light Dead is the sun On these wasted plateaus Where only wolves now run
The temples that men built Are now naught but places of guilt Gushing forth destruction and filth Themselves covered in cleanest silk
Now the snow is black The sun, painted black Yet I travel with a torch in my hand Wandering the length and the breadth of this land
The sun is sleeping behind the clouds Its fire stolen by the hounds We unleashed upon him We were the Prometheus of our time Unknowing the depth of our crime
The sun is sleepijng behind the clouds Its fire stolen by the hounds We were the Prometheus of our time Left wondering the depth our crime
A sword on my shoulder An axe on the other A torch in my fist The fire in my heart
Gone is the light Dead is the sun
Yet I travel with a torch in my hand Climbing the highest mountains Wander the length and breadth of this land To carry fire to our fountains