Children of the moon, sky high against the day. A script half-written won't remind. Rainbows jostled, skylines torn. Witches burn beneath us. So polish up your best shoes / walk in line beside sorrow - supplication lost behind. Hitching our throats like tin cans behind this universal hearse. Back against the wall. Rictus grin must bear it. To take the pain and gatecrash my own wake. To ride them all through the black time, Jormungandr. To stare unblinking through hollow face of Death. Whirling worlds, nucleus sun to disappear down frozen gullet of Fenris wolf. Hammer waits to fall.