ceremonial castings – swallowed by the aeons of time lyrics

though i fade slowly
reclimbing routes of wonder
barren up, how ?
only blights, a thousand thunders

heaven sent, blackness storm
warren born, the ant of mat
that areth sprained to seakeneth
blood a stream meant for those foundling
coming up with frailness
with memories of not-knowing ant
freedom must be so manic with us
lord smites, and our bodies are done