Hidden in the mist of solitude,
lie memories of broken arms and lilies.
Temptation has given birth to hate,
and night lent man her veil.
Under this lunar veil, man is now asleep.
And through the lands of the forgotten,
the prettiest lullaby is heard.
It was molded in a fire,
deep inside the earth.
The lullaby now speaks tales
of darkness, light and dirt.
The wretched fear it's omen
and the wise fear it's might.
Blessed is he who knows no greed,
for he shall be bestowed the crown of life.