(Town's People)
Anon, and still heedest we redemption
Languishing, our strength in decline
Our vigor, long sith dead.
Astray, the darkness veileth our eyes
And our prayers, as endless luminous tapers
Sway lithe aloft...

Desert'd and lorn art we
Thy docile servants
Must we announce apostasy
For thee to succour us
Believe not their languid cries
And wan pleas
Availest they, the ebbing wounds
For their treasury

(Raise us from this nadir)
The weeping droves
Cast forth a bleeding hand
Fore'er to befoul our gaunt land
In the midst of this atrocity
Ye knaves wrong one more
And thrice is deem'd the tragedy

Cold Heart'd merchants
Daunt and malign
Their souls morbidly trad'd
Is't wealth which thou solely seek
That in its trail treason is adorn'd
Arise ye servants
And taste the brine
As thy brothers didst in death
Thine hearts rot as vines in draught
For blasphemy and sacriliege ceasest
Not!

(Town's People)
Err'd we did before and shalt we err again
Lo' as we waltz in this maelstrom
As harvesters we shall reap the grain
In this gehenna, known as our home

Our graves exhumed
The sun entombed
Where once the moon placidly loom'd
Dancing in vertigo
Our tome reacheth its end
Afar a wail
Slowly unveils
The desert sun calleth thee
If our genesis lieth in the sand
Go bereave by the searing land

(Raise us from this nadir)
The weeping droves
Cast forth a bleeding hand
Fore'er to befoul our gaunt land
In the midst of this atrocity
Ye knaves wrong one more
And thrice is deem'd the tragedy

These dying groves
Of once a paradise
Art now the homestead of our decadent cries
And now i command thee
To heed this profound score
Flee where, thy soul
Shant be possess'd by deviltry!

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