The spiritually dead species We hold you in great envy The drums are calling us We cannot resist A grand design, our finest creation We created you, gave you life But we cannot control you Cannot wield you Please don't lead us Into an even greater darkness Awaiting the fast rising moon Calling for the great march Do not speak of him Never take his shape Never assume his form A statue of derision in art His cause is not yours We are for him a special cause Ignorant, deceptive We are You disappear from view What madness is this A disturbing pale space A shore for dead thoughts Who dare create such a thing No mind no spirit no heart Can imagine such a place Such a sense of abhorrence and awe