Light Threatens, Is Active, Is Gone, So

I Knew The Poor, I Knew The Hideous Death They Die, When Famine Lays Its Bleak Hand On The Door; I Knew The Rich, Sated With Merriment, Who Yet Are Sad.

The Heart The Heart The Heart How It Thrives On Hate.

Light Threatens, Is Active, Is Gone, So It Is With A Song.

Music Sets Up Ladders, It Makes Us Invisible, It Sets Us Apart, It Lets Us Escape; But From The Visible There Is No Escape.

There Must Be Real Gods See, The Painted Gods How Fair!