I am he that move in the valleys
Of the damned, making haste
Persistent like the rasps at chains of the world

Into perpetual dementia the crossroads twirl
Here at the eye of the storm
But from an unusual tree my cane was cut
And it is ever by my side

Wherever leads the trail
Whatever burden that oppress the heart
Where sorrows thrive
And shadows linger everlasting
On vacant thrones

Behold a river aflow
Winding and twisting, back to its source
There goes our way
Through everlasting decay
To where the temple stands eternally

Ours is a path of power
Edged by the remnants of the slain
Long have we walked upon it
But ours is the patience of the pilgrim
Who journeys against the tide
Ever towards the sanctuary
Beyond the shores of life and death

For it has made me a defier of every law
That robs my kind of liberty and grace
I am he that move in the valleys of the damned
And none shall lessen my pace

Besieged, expired and undone
The waste, from whence I am gone

Behold the last of stars ascend
To mark the return
To the night without end

Where goes our way
Through everlasting decay
To where the temple stands eternally

In words, in deed
In scars that ever bleed
On towards the sanctuary forever
Ours in triumph and eternal death