Twelve dreams for the Red Queen under the crown of stone
Eight voracious beasts born from eight restless nights
Four nails piercing the flesh of the sinner
One prayer for the summoned called by this song

A righteous snare
To keep mankind from ascending
To the stars
Mortality was believed to be God's punishment

Since the apple was plucked from the sacred tree
They were all wrong
Death is not a wicked thing

Is this her in-ha-bi-tants last dance?
Alone to face death and pestilence
Confronted by the eerie and unknown
Mortals became desperate for answers

A flocks flight makes for an omen
The falling of a star
A dire presage
Turning to priests for interpretation

When religion failed
Men turned to science
I saw them build such vain cities
Crafting machines made for an endless war

New questions flourished
As old answers withered

What is darkness but lurking Sun?
What is wall but enslaved stone?
What is glass but tortured sand?
What is song but a call to arms?
What is hate but jilted love?
What is life but death pending?

Life is just death pending
A righteous snare
To keep mankind from ascending
To the stars
Mortality was believed to be God's punishment

Since the apple was plucked from the sacred tree
They were all wrong
Death is not a wicked thing
Nor some holy retribution
A true punishment would be to never know
It's sweet kiss
Awake from the harshness and be born once more