When all have found their place in soil
The saints before them will lead the loyal
We've passed it off
And waited too long
We look at ourselves
And realize we're not wanted here
Be somber
And close your eyes
All great kings
Will someday die
The allure of illumination
Guides them blindly without hesitation
On a lost path
Under the night canopy
Don't make a sound
Just listen to the tress
Thrones become stones
Around which these forests have grown
Waited far too long to be a king
Lost all desire to have my own wings
It's never enough
Everything stands still
Trapped in these boughs
And their ever tightening grip
Shake the Earth and crumble these thrones
In saecula saeculorum