collagenrock

Deep within the womb of time,
a creature dost be born.
See the light you united with
the ache of tyranny.
Presses forth from within the womb of life
for three-quarter but nigh a year,
the creature dost be born.
The creature dost be formed.


And every year
raineth down
the celebratory tears.
A celebration of the years
from the immortal sky.
A year of years...


[The number of years] bells will chime
when the heavens open up
and drink from the silver cup.
The creature dost be born.
The creature dost be born.


And blow the magic horn...