Calling all the fallen soldiers,
To the land where they were smoldered
In the furnace of their love;
Seen from ancient eyes, so high above.
The time is now to run, into the setting of the sun;
For statued men so made of dust,
To surrender to their final lust;
And bursting forth into this pit,
Into mountains lands of midnight sands,
Release their force that this is it;
And the time is now to make their stand.
Away into the amber tint and hourglass,
Of Egyptian eyelids swimming past,
Before such hands did meet their head,
And they conceived of being dead;
Dissolved into the darkest sea,
Where all evaporates, into a sunless me.
As the quicksand beckons them to leave their ways behind,
And lights infernos in their mind,
And as the phoenix rides its solar beam,
Exultance bursts into their stream;
Just to chase such dreams into the sun,
Where the fire of their life is won;
And since the past is only aging,
It is now that times are changing.