| Blotted skies subdue stellar cries
|
| Bleeding out from the pillars
|
| Nebula of Aquila
|
| You have served a killer
|
| Time warps these hallowed grounds
|
| As if to draw a line in the sand
|
| Time brings disdain for the weak
|
| Time is what I have
|
| With Reaper Squads still dispatching
|
| You place your hopes on pillars crashing
|
| Time is a clock on the wall we command
|
| And its hands made from pillars of sand
|
| On our watch we don’t seek what we find
|
| Left bereft by the passage of time
|
| I have built an empire
|
| On the dust of Alshain
|
| Collection sails extract the Enocules
|
| From vast mines in space
|
| And so, we live as ageless men
|
| From the time the reaction begins
|
| The dispenser is strapped to your wrist
|
| You are shackled to my every whim
|
| You are enslaved by the promise of tomorrow
|
| You’ve paid the price for the time that you borrow
|
| Time moves like a crack in glass
|
| Sometimes slow, sometimes fast
|
| We all know the fate of the pane
|
| But we move forth, piling on more strain
|
| On the glass of melted sand
|
| Forged by our greedy hands
|
| On a path we choose to belie
|
| It makes us feel alive
|
| Pillars of sand fall down as gravity remands
|
| The bones of the dead in a dusty mist
|
| Pillars of sand cannot ascend
|
| Such are we at the point of the obelisk
|
| As Reapers dock in the Cygnus Port
|
| My eyes are captured by the pillars
|
| Nebula of Aquila
|
| Your skies have never been stiller
|
| We have come upon the line
|
| Where gravity intercepts with time
|
| Time is without mass
|
| And cannot exist in broken glass
|
| The unrepentant nature of all
|
| Everything falls |