The clock is ticking out a ceaseless pattern;
It is heedless to the entreaties of man.
I hear the monotonous rhythm;
Its schedule will be kept.

Minus a minute, minus a day,
How soon before our lives have ticked away?
Sans mercy, sans compassion,
The clock is relentless, untiring in its fashion.

Each moment timeless,
Every second a treasure,
To fight against nature is a pointless endeavour;
Spend the remaining years wiser than the wise.

The clock has rendered your days to a number;
But despair not, and live them before eternal slumber.

All good things be for naught as the dark closes in,
Burying the stars in the sky.
Everything dies.
The nations brought together
Will splinter like wood
And be scattered among the grains of oppression,
The shore spanning for eternity the sea of time.

In Albion's greatest need
Her king shall rise from the depths,
Avalon's secret for so long kept.
Awakened will be the age of chivalry from its slumber;
The sword drawn from the stone sharpened anew.

The empress of shadow walketh in the night,
Awaiting the crowning glory of her reign.
Tombs will be opened
And caskets shattered like glass,
The dead slaves to her will.
The war of the ancients will
A-surface once more,
And the power of the earth felt.

Serpent's strength and man's quill,
The pen of the dragon
Hath the right to draft the future.
Wrong shall be set right
And the golden firedrake
Upon the red field shall fly once again;
Darkness cannot linger before it.

From the distress of her station
The shining kingdoms will summon
The knights of the table round,
And they will rise to the threat
To defend Albion
When cometh the Once and Future King.