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How can we exit this wasted land

moving through forests of razor wire?

No voice to guide us, and no light to see

nothing but lies from the mouth of fire

This doomed procession just wanders and wails

our numbers are faltering, failing, falling

Time is a tyrant, a prison, a curse

hands to the sky now, voices calling

Baptistina, come again

transform the night into day

Second Sun, chosen one

Take all these sorrows away

I had a vision, I saw the truth

all the hairs counted, the grains of sand numbered

Millions and millions all lined in a row

a voice from the deep was calling them under

The cosmic alembic will come to its pitch

the elements mixing, changing, running

All of the colors will bleed into one

the fire in the sky is the savior coming

Baptistina, come again

transform the night into day

Second Sun, chosen one

burn all these sorrows away