Withered wisps of hair
Upon a throne of gold
You built your hollow kingdom
For which you sold your soul
A fading silent prayer
Echoes as it dies
The ones we seek, the longest are
The ones we never find

Blankly staring eyes
As deep as holy jewels
Fixed upon the future
But deadened still and cruel
Although it seems to shine
Thought returns to dust
Giving back the heathen ground
The light she gave to us