The migration begins of the mystic moon,
Through the darkness of depression
And the howling screams of doom.
Guide our steps oh beckoning beacon,
Along the bloody shores in songs of troubadours.
Where children play in surf and sand,
Dreaming of love in distant lands.
Down the endless cycles of life and death,
Echos the silent anguish of emptiness.
Of fatherless children and motherless babes,
To a world full of war, starvation, and slaves.
I sacrifice myself in the name of love.
My blood for the Grail, my spirit as a dove.
Standing naked in a hall of Angels,
Begins the beginning, begins the presence.
A golden gift hidden deep in the land.
The creation, the Creator, the key, and the man.
I give back to my mother what she gave to me.
In the eyes of the dreamers, and the orphans of the sea