I am he that move in the valleys Of the damned, making haste Persistent like the rasps at chains of the world Into perpetual dementia the crossroads twirl Here at the eye of the storm But from an unusual tree my cane was cut And it is ever by my side Wherever leads the trail Whatever burden that oppress the heart Where sorrows thrive And shadows linger everlasting On vacant thrones Behold a river aflow Winding and twisting, back to its source There goes our way Through everlasting decay To where the Temple stands eternally Ours is a path of power Edged by the remmants of the slain Long have we walked upon it But ours is the patience of the pilgrim Who journeys against the tide Ever towards the Sanctuary Beyond the shores of life and Death For it has made me a defier of every law That robs my kind of liberty and grace I am he that move in the valleys of the damned And none shall lessen my pace Besieged, expired and undone The waste, from whence I am gone Behold the last of stars ascend To mark the return To the night without end Where goes our way Through everlasting decay To where, the Temple stands eternally In words, in deed In scars that ever bleed On towards the Sanctuary forever Ours in triumph and eternal Death