The time and place I can't remember
Was it June or late September
morning rising from the Moorland
walk with me
and you will see
Ragged mountains in the sunlight
Echoed noises from the seas
Tranquil colors in the high skies
Silver perfumes on the breezes
Did you see the man below the shadow
Moving eyes staring from the meadow
Rising answers from the country
The Master's hand
laid on the land
Then sweeping from the distance came a Lady dressed in green
She shone with trembling beauty that had ne'er before been seen
Stretching forth her hand to calm the hatred that had been
Behind her eyes
Flow distant skies
all shining down
The Winter winds have killed the strong seed
Speak of Conclaves who have no need
of a Saviour left to die
And looking round I see the motions turning in your head
Respected things have fallen to the tortured flower bed
So please give me a reason to believe the words you said
for we are here
close to fear
and memories are painful
And gathering around us as the Towers of Babylon
The war lance of the warrior in the paling morning sun
where the Morning of Magicians will descend on everyone
Will an image of your conscience cloud your disbelieving eyes
with a growing apparition belaying all the long told lies
as the feelings shown have shocked you into trying to be brave
you remain as but a small part of the Eternal Conclave
Yet standing by the sea I can't see where your boats have gone
In the valleys of the morning they have sank into the dawn
to a Dark Queen who is eager to take the last remaining pawn
A message sent
A message sent
A ruling movement
Shines within her eyes
Shines within her...
Shines within...
Shines
