Sleeping shadows through brightened days,
the clouds recede and give way to the sun.
Horrors I see before the end of these days,
and our futures shall be a cell, or to run.
Can the sun be so cruel?
It's majesty a mere disguise to deceive?
What nightmare shall be bestowed from her rule,
and what torment is now ours to receive?
I welcome the cruel face of the moon,
for it shall not obey the sun.
If only the night would come too soon,
if only we put down the gun.
