In the diary of a darkened mind,
Lie phantom secrets of design.
Sacred dreams of the divine,
Wrought by souls dehumanized.
Records of the ancient line,
Sacred prospects of the vine,
Etched upon Icarian shrine,
Are the greatest secrets lost to time.
Sacred union of spirit and heart,
That tears the body apart,
Sing the words of the Athenian art,
And ready these souls to depart.

Cursed breath, whisper away,
Pages of the past long grayed,
Tales of the Starlands we pray,
That the ghosts of Earthblood shall obey.
Transcend to paradise my fallen souls,
To the Godsent, bring the balance of old.
Oh messenger of the ancient scrolls,
Bring them to heaven, the children of gold.
Outbound spirits, fly forth from the sky,
And wring heaven with your cries.
Earth-land, do not let your rivers run dry,
Whilst these souls have said their last goodbye.
Now rest, newborns, where the sun is warm,
Fly to the skies where the angels swarm,
Dear children of gold, spread your wings and transform,
And depart from this weathered world reformed.