I slumber throught my years, like the desert moves with the wind
Frozen and flickering, the lustful year has met its end
A wanderer I am indeed
the son of the moon
and I will carry mountains soon

A burden I was for those who woke the sun
I threw their masks away, lit my torches and burned their eyes

Forgiven I never was

But I will carry mountains soon
A burden, is it not?

Kneeling I chose my faith,
while they lit the sun, and flew naked and blind over my desert fields