We're coming around this time of year;
around the world, but now we're here.
It's the reaper's scythe that you should fear,
for your omega is drawing near.

So lay down your head and close your eyes;
can you hear the whispers within thine lies?
And when you scream out your cries,
it is only you who tries.

Futile little lamb, she lay;
when her end comes to play
in another day.
Come what may today.

So stay a while, as the night hauls near,
You will stand alone to hear
The seer...
...that nests stars into the skies.
Can you tell which one that lies
within thine eyes?

Dance my children of the patch,
With trinkets of dead skulls you catch.
Around your neck, pulls 'round a noose.
A personal gallows with nothing to lose.

The folly of the young has been unsung,
and when you're shunned we will be done;
the night's wonders of the harvest has only begun.

Now it's time to pull out the root and strangle the weed...indeed.