My throat is dry it thirsts for life
To know it’s too late is pure sublime
The final signal to begin the strife
Between the sun and moon in time

In a dream I dreamt a dream
That my mother wouldn’t know
My fathers gone to such a gleam
My hearts as white as snow

As white as the rose I took that day
Ill remember the scar of Satan’s glare
Come on and see the children play
Their throats so dry from Satan’s flare