Bones are that which keeps you here
Turn to dust and your soul will yield
Forgive this old fool
For the mistakes he’ve made
Leave me be and let the past fade

Fire rained over our heads
fume from the rocks seethed out of the ocean
Everything is quiet now
Except the gulls who shrieked and shuffled happily
Their meals now properly boiled

The clouds are bustling
The night blast rustling,
Sighs are breaking
From Grave-hills quaking,
The regions were under
Thunder.
Of the mighty and the daring,
The ghosts there muster
Stains of war bearing,
In their eye star luster.
Ye who blind are straying,
And Preying,
Shall an ag’d relic meet,
Which shall come and shall fleet,
Its red sides golden,
The stamp displaying
Of the time most olden
That shall give ye a notion
To hold in devotion
Our gift, is your duty!
A maiden, of beauty
Most rare.
Shall find the token!