Is it not ironic How your favorite dread Is the matrix in which you were formed The unfathomable dark Of a realm arcane and burrowed far below
The grain sprouts deep from 'neath the soil Where sunlight will never ever ever reach
Behold From darkness we come That shelter where all life is formed Ascend To darkness we sail Eternal refuge of the soul
The darkness of night goes out When dawn befalls in the time between the times And the grain in the soil, buried deep Shall not bear fruit unless it dies In the dark of antumnos The awen waves and life is conceived
The day is born from the night In the three night of samon the year is born So the song has been sung Let him hear it who will
Is it not ironic How you cling so hard To all evidence of all there is As you maintain your unbroken urge To explain what you can't
The child grows in its mother's womb Enshrouded and concealed
