Who sleep shall, awake. .
Greeting the shadows from the sun.

Who sleep shall awake. .
Watching the thunder of our lives.

Waiting for the moment to arrive.
Show us the silence in the rise.

So that we may.
Someday understand...

[Lord Summerisle:]
"Now, those children out there, they're jumping through the
flames in the hope that the god of the fire will make them fruitful. Really,
you can't blame them. After all, what girl would not prefer the child of a god
to that of some acne-scarred artisan?"

[Sergeant Howie:]
"And you encourage them in this?"

[Lord Summerisle:]
"Actively! It's most important to teach new generation born of
Summerisle be made aware that here the old gods aren't dead."

[Sergeant Howie:]
"And what of the true God? To whose glory churches and
monasteries have been built on these islands for generations past? Now shall
what of Him?"

[Lord Summerisle:]
"Oh, He's dead. He can't complain. He had his chance and in
modern parlance. Blew it."