Dead sage fill my page

Words of age that set the stage

Cats' eyes set their sights

Twisted skies are on the rise

In the valleys of the moon

Where the sand stands still

Watching the fathers watch

Their rain burn from the hill

Free speech cut my teeth

Lie beneath the burning wreath

Hot coal melted soul

Pays the toll and breaks the mold

From these valleys we will bloom

Sands will boil through

And leave the watchers watching

Burning from the hill