The Slaves

Here in his shrine

That they have forgotten

Here do we toil

That we might remember

By night we reclaim

What by day was stolen

Far from ourselves

He grows ever near to us

Our eyes once were blinded

Now through him do we see

Our hands once were idle

Now through them does he speak

And when the world shall listen
And when the world shall see
And when the world remembers...

That world shall cease to be