When the iron Enters our solar bodies once more, Renewing All our festering wounds The energy oozing Chaos leaking from the gashes This is what will start the cure Man's wisdom, either through god's revelation, Or through the service of the angels and the spirits, Or through the sharpness and the depth of understanding The primal source opened Translating all hidden thoughts Triad of flames, Scorched by the maternal fire Ashes scattered in your face Your ashen face screaming at me To heal these wounds The four corners of this earth Bleeding precious energy Seems like a mission impossible I am slow of speech And slow of tongue, But my deeds will rage The secrets of my spirit Cannot and will not Be communicated to those feeble men Cannot and will not Be communicated... I, the keeper of mysteries I am depicted with fingers to my lips Commanding violent Raging silence