Heavens go red, they know what to expect
as engines blazing are ships docking
They rest as wounded animals so tired
Thus wakes the city to the last day of its siege.
Soon the figures of winged oxen march from the night
of ancient mists, darkness of nightmares
Soon open the skies, spewing hordes of angels
Cradling lightning, eyes glaring with justice
The King leans upon his golden hand, in his metal tower
Like a solar flare is his gaze, soulless, pale, unquenchable.
Now on the day of defeat, under judgment, he gazes his kingdom and expressionless he speaks the old story to the walls:
"Beyond the Light-Wall, unreachable by speed,
there are smoked mirrors reflecting the everlasting
Beyond the Light-Wall, unreachable by speed,
there lies the void that binds us."
Air vibrates in the room and shadows too,
a figure in the dark waits, silence, that too quiets
On the all-circuit transmissions voices then sound
and sound like a voice of the winner:
"King you were of worlds, holding the strings,
ruler you were, your will made lives end, or continue
On the end of the day is a King as weak as anyone
Soon you'll fall on your face and want to save the last ones."
Is the world so bound, and us it's prisoners; then is God behind it all
Or boundless, without borders, thus are we alone and free...
What to do then, as the story is ending
Be wise, give me a place to stand and I'll throw the world askew
"Beyond the Light-Wall, unreachable by speed,
there are smoked mirrors reflecting the everlasting
Beyond the Light-Wall, unreachable by speed,
there lies the time that prepares us for this moment."
My grave is guarded by a light breeze
My grave is guarded by a drop of dew
My grave is guarded by 100,000 killer satellites
My grave is guarded by a tera-ton of antimatter...