The wolves carry my name,
in their midnight speaches.
A voice much closer to home,
shouts into my heart with unholy impatience.
One thousand and one moons,
hung overhead.
I'm growing old,
soon i shall be dead.
I have found the gates,
that lead to the otherside.
Standing atop temples,
built to the gods.
The testimony i preach,
shall be learned.
All i have seen,
shall be heard.
For the chaledon's roam free.
I have found fear,
i have raised the dead.
Things subjected,
only unto me.
The book of the Black Earth,
is now my home.
Waiting and dreaming,
for my departure.
The ancient ones,
tell of tales.
Of the beginning,
for which i have seen.
Close all gates,
as the vapor of death,
shall toll my bell.
The chaledon's roam free.
The chaledon's roam free