| I see your grave in a field of stars, |
| And my darkness is revealing |
| A face of masks, |
| A graven heart, |
| Tear it apart, |
| I see your face |
| In a plaintive light |
| And my silence is confessing, |
| To buried truth, the cult of youth, |
| Gentile and cruel, |
| If you give yourself |
| To a life of dreams |
| You will find that you are reeling, |
| Nightmares will be born, |
| Nightmares have been borne, |
| If you give yourself |
| To a life complete |
| You will find that you are dreaming, |
| Nightmares have been borne, |
| Nightmares must be born, |
| And lo, it’s the night of the soul, |
| You keep turning and turning |
| To the edge of the world, |
| So low, the light of the soul, |
| You keep burning and burning |
| Until the end of the world, |
| Is this destiny calling again, |
| Mourning again, mourning again? |
| I see you march in a field of green, |
| Holy land of gloom and sorrow, |
| The song sublime, the death divine, |
| All clash with the times, |
| But here inside |
| Where all secrets hide, |
| I can see your arches rising, |
| In green decay and ashen grey, |
| Broken away |