How can we exit this wasted land moving through forests of razor wire? No voice to guide us, and no light to see nothing but lies from the mouth of fire This doomed procession just wanders and wails our numbers are faltering, failing, falling Time is a tyrant, a prison, a curse hands to the sky now, voices calling Baptistina, come again transform the night into day Second Sun, chosen one Take all these sorrows away I had a vision, I saw the truth all the hairs counted, the grains of sand numbered Millions and millions all lined in a row a voice from the deep was calling them under The cosmic alembic will come to its pitch the elements mixing, changing, running All of the colors will bleed into one the fire in the sky is the savior coming Baptistina, come again transform the night into day Second Sun, chosen one burn all these sorrows away