Stand upon the mount and raise your eyes to the skies,

Let the fingers of your left hand trail in the seas,

The right held high to orchestrate the breeze,

Let your tongue taste the bitterness of lies.

 

Lift within your ancient soul angers raging fires,

Call upon your wounded spirit to quell all sentiment,

Know that in this world all mercy is spent,

And purity murdered by desires.

 

Call upon your left hand to raise the oceans high,

Call upon your right to stir the violent winds,

Call upon the cleansing fires to burn away all sins,

Let your eyes bear witness as the stars fall from the skies.

 

Break all things that were carefully constructed,

Let roaring waves wash the lands clean,

Let the raging tempest remove all that is obscene,

Let not the storm be obstructed.

 

Call down the skies, let them crash to the ground,

Lift up the waters to smother the land,

Let no shred of sentiment stay your hand,

Let no redemption be found.

 

And when the storm dies and the waters subside,

And the skies are lifted back to their heights,

Let your eyes rest upon these terrible sights,

As the lands and the oceans divide.

 

Let your hands catch the bitter tears as they fall,

As you mourn the passing of your troubled flock,

And you take stock on your mound of rock,

At their failure to heed your call.