Ages of men,
Ages of gods,
To the dawn we made,
And struggles we gracefully engage.
On the darkest of nights,
Standing tall, a beacon we lit,
To raise our heads, to bend our souls..
This is for those souls,
Whose spirits left untarnished,
To remake our essence,
And to un-judge our deeds
This is for meekest of hearts,
Who desired to salute our woes,
And bind us in chains unhated.
This is for the unforgiven ones
Whose sin is an illusion we created,
To feed the one true beast we all are.
And to nurture true hate.
This is for the forgotten spirits,
Whose presence is a reflection,
Of our dying wishes and undoings.
Of our wasting spirits undying...
This is for the those who remained..
For they are gods unnamed,
The ones we truly pray to..
The ones made of sweat and blood,
This is for the woe called human,
For inhuman would fit them,
And for some of them,
Their souls they ate..
This is for the seeds unborn,
For the seeds unknown,
For the seeds that would never be born,
For the world is curse..
Become part of it... realize it..
This the for those who never lived..
The is for those who existed..
Whose souls is binded to the ground,
Whose dreams are shattered,
Whose hope was taken away,
Whose sweat was turned to blood,
Whose heart was bled dry,
Whose eyes has seen the untold.
This is for those who tried...
This is for those failed..
This for those who tried again..
This for those who fell...
This is for those who fell again...