Can you remember the words of our dying Mother? All winters' white...and wonderful The third eye spies the greatest pain In league with the cycle of life…feel the change Her breath of frost upon the house of Man's beating heart Sleep children sleep, such colours to be seen Sanguine glaciers, the veins of our prelude Fore this is where She lies. Mother, be our eyes... Be our eyes… As the icicles fall, moments of reverence The invention of all, everything calls and every life-line ignites The tears of Mother, everlasting season But the phoenix empire expires…exhales…the curtain call to embers Within us She lives, around us She's dying Fading lights blacken, garden's euphoric…cowering underworld order The winds sing our dirge...This is where She lies The veiling unveiled… Mother, our Mother beats down her ashen wings Mother, be our eyes... Grey and dripping the blood of Mother Feel Her pain Evolving, the shrouds She gathers This is where She lies In abstraction without colours We die with the fall of the icicles... Lost to pigment the pale paradise… Swept in tow to the danse macabre In hand to the cold grasp of time…of time Broken shutters gape open wide Breathing in hoarse whispers on high… Cry…white-noise witch choir Ice tears of our Mother Pillars of monolith and ice, laced with lightning Besieged by the void, the anti-matter of mind Once were painted walls, now they preach parched skin petals The freeze-frame tomb unfolds…for our Mother…our Mother Cry…white-noise witch choir Fall of the icicles… Mother…Mother…Mother…Mother…