When all have found their place in soil The saints before them will lead the loyal We've passed it off And waited too long We look at ourselves And realize we're not wanted here
Be somber And close your eyes All great kings Will someday die
The allure of illumination Guides them blindly without hesitation On a lost path Under the night canopy Don't make a sound Just listen to the tress
Thrones become stones Around which these forests have grown
Waited far too long to be a king Lost all desire to have my own wings It's never enough Everything stands still Trapped in these boughs And their ever tightening grip
Shake the Earth and crumble these thrones In saecula saeculorum