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Have they ever heard

What we have done

Their fallen children?

Holocausts and heroes

Broken ones

And haunted buildings

Every offering in honor

Of their secret knowing

Seeds just cast away

On barren ground

But still they’re growing

Growing on and on

Growing on and on

Growing on and on

Genius buried low in drifts of snow by grasping fingers

Soldiers marching on inspired by unholy singers

Spectres rising by the crimson light of burning torches

Angels close their eyes struck silent by the things they’ve shown us

Seen by the saints in the clouds

What will become of us now?

The four horsemen entombed in snow

What else could we do but bow?

Called from cauldrons by the ancient ones to do their bidding

Blackened landscapes couldn't stop them flowering and living

Embraced solely by the chosen ones who heard them calling

Monuments that shall stay standing 'til our world has fallen