• See beyond the shadows, see beyond the night,
    Take into your heart this earthly delight,
    Dream in these darkened times of yester years,
    Believe in the secrets, that your senses do deceive.

    For nothing be real, all be that fantasy,
    That lives in our most gracious ecstasy,
    And shadows of silken weave do grace us,
    To dance and sing as if we were free.

    Praise the Weaver and praise the Maker,
    For the artist creates without mold, but with heart,
    Dreaming with hands and not with the mind,
    Caressing the ley lines of fictious reality.

    Come to the morning rising, come to the burning night,
    The earth is afire of all hues from dusk to dawn's light,
    Children of the heavens have risen to sing to us their fears,
    For they cannot see within the hearts of mortal men.

    Nothing seems real, nothing is clear,
    All akin to the shadows be here,
    Dreaming without sense or fantasy,
    The end of days calls to our souls.

    Name me the depths of the earth,
    That are countless fathoms deeper than the sea,
    Of which the tears do fall upon the gentle mother,
    And we remember.

    I wish the world well,
    For softer words were never spoken,
    Only whispered in moonlit dreams,
    Among the blossoms of fading hearts.

    Turning back time does bring upon my mind the most weariest of thoughts,
    For it is no small matter to destroy each moment, every moment,
    As no one will tell you those words again, but the songs will still remain,
    There is sense in this, remember the words unspoken by our silent hearts.