The old river creeps
Slowly to the sea to die
The hay meadows reaped
At the cold bladed scythe
The God of fire is here
With the fire from his eyes
The lonely chapel burns
Sending angels to the skies

The forced brides of our lord
And the destruction of them all
Is a very thin reward

In this profanity
Beyond the rim of sky
In this insanity
Comes a last outcry

The land lead the frightened
River back to its mother sea
And witnessed from above
This work of slavery
Through its mouth, the world
Will drink the waters deep

In this profanity
Beyond the rim of sky
In this insanity
Comes a last outcry