We be given to you
a will in ancient way
slept to the memory of open mind
in the rush and temper of tongue and fire
we dwell in the heat of a white wolves cry
as lamb be's birth brazen and naked on the spit of life

gentle eyes pierce the sky within the fold of skin
collected to sight on the razor sharp ray of sun
coloured to the souls velvet underground
brittle to the bones burn
no turning away in the no return

The game is old
The tokens made of ice
From under folds of hooded cloaks
Flash the eyes of mice
But every thousand years
A human player appears
And in his hands
Our fate
               hangs
Like drops of blood
               on yellowed murine fangs
For it is said
By those long dead
That on the day he loses
We all melt away
We all melt away