Above our heads, just flood of clouds
and nothing left to stay them.
The veil of night forever shrouds
the horrid fields of mayhem.

Dismay has grasped the bravest hearts
and sunk them in disaster.
We dare not ask for better parts;
this play we cannot master.

Accepting fate for what it means -
corruption and enthrallment -,
you force us to forgive the sins
of those wretched, mortal men.

Oh, put an end to our toil,
Creator of Chaos and Death!
We crave what you will always spoil;
of love and peace we are bereft.

Who hoped for you mad must be now,
drowned in the pond of delusion.
We’re beings of light, yet somehow
you’ve brought us down in confusion.