The darkness subsides, Eclipse passed your eyes,
Confused and blind, Despite the crashing light
Immersed within your mind’s abyss, Soul and skin so languid
In these open skies, Lost, Clouds turn to a guide, Found
Spirits please, Fill the Grey Kings, Make us peasants all
Moonlit clouds disperse, The winds of your curse,
Howling in thought, Locusts in a harvest
Ancient manuscripts, one with the earth,
Searches fade away, lost in birth
In these open skies, Lost, Clouds turn to a guide, Found
Spirits please, Fill the Grey Kings, Make us peasants all
On the citadel, Let the grey garbs fall, To our level, You do not deserve
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