|Give to me your hand, my sacrificial lamb.
As we travel across this magical land.
Every animal & human kind, in memory, will know us in mind.
Never a loss, a sample of time.
Consider the anxiousness of creation.
The waiting, the longing, the simple elation,
the becoming of one, as always been.
The beginning and ending of the one called sin.
Mankind's illusion coming from within.
An awakening, a quickening and the physical begins.
The spirit remembers as the soul is veiled.
The soul walks as the spirit sails.
In the beginning there was naught.
In the beginning was original thought.
A discovery of awareness, the giving of freewill.
Creating our logos, universe expanding still.
Choosing Gaia as our setting stage.
W opposing thumbs comes weapons of rage.
All is experience, never a mistake.
All is well in the plans we made.
For the completion of the cycle of man,
to continue to grow and decimate the sands,
from under the castles that no longer stand.
Just a fleeting glimpse into the lens of time.
Nothing exists as such a fine line.
So, give to me your sacrificial hand.
As we make our mark across the blessed land.
Blessed by the hand of man.
Scarred by the lust of love,
of getting back to the stars above.
Going back to whence we came,
never to be the same again.
Beyond what we ever were before.
Back to the light, the spark of lore.
The beginning, the middling, the end,
Infinite Creator we are within.
It's a long battle never to be won.
It's a won battle for all but none.
Ever increasing the darkness of night.
Ever increasing the love and light.