In the smoke where the dead are sighing, I breathe the songs of the ever-dying, Skies unravel, the stars complying, to the path where the souls are lying, Veins of earth through my pulse are tying, gods of shadow, their tongues defying, Flames of reason, forever denying, I walk the worlds where truth is crying. Spiritwalker—void’s creation, born of ruin, revelation, Hands of blood in consecration, speak the names of desolation, Through the storm’s reverberation, call the dead to transformation, Breath to bone in synchronization, life undone through incantation. Earth dances in the dusk's confession, ghost entwine in their lost procession, Fire hums with divine transgression, binding souls to the nights procession, Wind takes hold of the old concession, flesh and ether bind in succession, Water flows with the gods' aggression, silence becoming their obsession. Beneath the stars, the circle closes, Ash replaces the wilted roses, Dreams decay as the dark proposes, Fate consumes what the dawn discloses. The serpent coils in the pulse of thunder, Skies divide and the worlds fall under, Eyes of gods in their spectral wonder, See me rise where the soul must sunder. In the end, all paths are burning, Echoes fade, yet still returning, Spirit bound, eternally yearning, Life and death in endless turning.
