Can you remember the words of our dying mother?
All winters' white and wonderful
The third eye spies the greatest pain
In league with the cycle of life feel the change

Her breath of frost upon the house of man's beating heart
Oh sleep children, such colours to be seen
Sanguine glaciers, the veins of our prelude
Fore this is where she lies mother, be our eyes
Be our eyes

As the icicles fall, moments of reverence
(The invention of all, everything calls and every life-line ignites)
The tears of mother, everlasting season
(But the phoenix empire expires, exhales the curtain call to embers)
Within us, she lives, around us, she's dying
(Fading lights blacken, garden's euphoric cowering underworld order)
The winds sing our dirge, this is where she lies
(The veiling unveiled mother, our mother beats down her ashen wings)
Mother, be our eyes

Grey and dripping the blood of mother
Feel her pain
Evolving, the shrouds she gathers
This is where she lies
In abstraction without colours
We die with the fall of the icicles
Lost to pigment the pale paradise

Swept in tow to the danse macabre
In hand to the cold grasp of time, of time
Broken shutters gape open wide
Breathing in hoarse whispers on high

Cry white-noise witch choir
Ice tears of our mother

Pillars of monolith and ice, laced with lightning
Besieged by the void, the anti-matter of mind
Once were painted walls, now they preach parched skin petals
The freeze-frame tomb unfolds for our mother, our mother

Cry white-noise witch choir
Fall of the icicles

Mother, mother, mother, mother