To find the humble glory of a battle finally won,
then look towards yonder death, crying out with lovely scorn.
To pierce a heart with the gaze of ice anddistant sun,
then see that all is lost as the heat of light is torn
Apart.

To rise from life, into the cloudy heavens far above,
then choke into existence to the cries of those you love.
To dream of death, of peaceful death, with wings of the white dove,
then wake and, crashing harmony, destroy the herald of
Heart.