| I behold the world through cold, dead eyes. | |
| The womb is barren and infertile. | |
| The sun grows shy and the night grows strong. | |
| We are all cast down and enslaved by the ripping cold. The field is a frozen corpse, but life seems to linger in the air, a mist both rich and void. | |
| Cloaked in the skin of a beast, | |
| we embrace the Leviathan as a necessity. | |
| We assemble in caves; | |
| we cower and wait. | |
| My bones grow stiff and cold. | |
| The glorious breath of flame keeps the blood from freezing. | |
| The earth is suffocating within the ice, in a deep, cold sleep, with dreams of finality. | |
| The freezing moon washes the world azure, | |
| with the fog, the endless fog, | |
| and the world grows fucking silent... |
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