The flake of strong intake and lies despise the wake of a dream,
This stream: this seam of bowels and psyche, psychically forbade a tie,
Withheld the lie of a million burning voices
Of old

Flowers with half a burn must turn
Must turn, and brain to wait
And brain to wait so talk

Lances will bleed the body to burn, and grin will the spirit within;
Spit in the eye of one who cares and dares to walk at my side:
Oh glorious pride
Underlining the flaws within could they win?
Cursing a friend to hasten the end of a farce called eternity
Of a farce called eternity

Flowers with half a burn must turn, and brain to wait so talk to me
And brain to wait so talk to me

The facts that permeate this act
Crown us all with wretched hate,
Lay waste to all that is known
And lay the wicked on their throne:
Willing erosion of sanctity;
Bleeding the eye in which my vision holds
Of old,
Such molten strings of destiny

Behold!
A hail of burning voices
Close at my side and strong, they help me burn inside;
Vexed noble spirits show me there is hope for human kind