The sun sets, the shadows fall,
A cold breeze, a weathered pall,
A leaf in the wind,
Adrift in the water,
I try not to quake
I try not to falter.
The Leiermann stands three feet in the ice,
Voiceless now, relegated to vice,
Ill-omened, leashed from behind,
We are the warp and weft of time
We are the darkness,
We are the light.
The Caller shall come,
From the Heavens and from the sea,
They who were foremost, they who were last,
Shall bitterly choke on that which has now come to pass,
There will be no refuge from the Light,
No respite, no night.