The fog settles on the western coastline
The birds are calm and the stars align
They ponder think and wonder -
Who is there above them hover
To decide the course of life, strife, grief,
And honor.

The Moon, she is benevolent
The sun is turbulent
The clouds reflect their mood
Like the solitude of the wood

And the fabric they've wooed
Is strengthen by faith, by the boulder of rocks and the
circles of fairies

As the heat from the south and the sand from the east
settle, the day rotates in an everlasting fade.

                                    -  -  -  
Faith, it is weak, it is hypocritically sick, as the Woe and
the Feud are ever fueled and fused by the ignorant.

Along they came with their god of gold, the only one, and
nothing more.
The sea opened in two out of fear of one
The Moon, it was frightened, it cried out in pain
The arrogant ungrateful god has killed and betrayed.
He hanged his heavenly brothers on the wall... monuments for
all.


                                  -  -  -

In the city of Smog, it gasps for air, but suffocated by
itself - it weeps an ancient craving, along with the two
teenagers now in praying;

There, sitting on the grassy knoll, up on that hill -
beneath the lonely willow...
They see the faeries.