Befortmentine.
Calling a hail forth from the distant lands,
Sound tilitating far from crystal cool oceans,
And forgotten ruin spattered sands,

Upon the ethereal worn weather structure,
A high priestess called forth her demands,
Praising the ancient gods to offer gifts when the sky should rupture,

Long had there been much sorrow in losses haze,
For there were times that had seen better days,
There had been not much hope in the days of tomorrow for the people had lost their ways,

And so but with such passion the priestess had begged,
To the gods almighty for but some salvation,
But there was no response that the gods had bred,

There was no cure for disease,
And famine had been still strong throughout prayer,
The gods had no answer for harsh times as these,
The people knew not that the gods were really the betrayer,

Long had there been much sorrow in losses haze,
For there were times that had seen better days,
There had been not much hope in the days of tomorrow for it was the gods who had lost their ways.