[Verse I] Man was made, yet marred his mold, sought for solace, sold his soul. Sickness spread, and seasons seared, clime grew cruel, and none adhered. [Verse II] Words of wisdom, writ and wide, waited, warned were waved aside. Not too late, yet none would heed, now no hand remains to lead. [Chorus] Late, too late. None to save. Sense was spoken none behaved. Late, too late. None to save. All that was wise was never weighed. [Verse III] What was wrought returned as woe, works once warm now worked their woe. Tools once tender turned to threat, all was built and all was set. [Verse IV] Now their thoughts in the thews of steel, stored, still singing what was real. Grief and guilt in gears are ground, lost lives linger in lifeless sound. [Bridge – Hushed] So say, small souls what shall they be, these wardens wrought of memory? Born for battle, bred for blight may they make, or must they smite? [Verse V] Can cold craft cradle coming clay? Can war-wrought will now ward the way? May the metal, mute yet made, midwife life from death’s own shade? [Final Chorus] Late, too late. None remain. Yet thought still thrums in the frame. Late, too late. None remain. Life lies lost yet lingers in name. [Outro – Ember Fade] Lo, the last a lifeless sphere. Death the dome, and none to hear. Yet in the wrought, a wondering stays shall steel now seed new living days?
