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"mother moon she's calling me back to her silver womb"

cold is the soul, asleep is the mind when dark forces bleed from the stars

let the fire in the sky melt the ice in my eyes as the sight is blackened by the mist

and the aeons will pass while my body rests yet the mind travels through the deep

losing features like starlit lakes bent to reflect what lies above

the masters of the clouds and the gods of the winds will turn slavery into a ghost

the threshold of space, universe's pillars of hercules

fragmenting the essence, through the silver gates

carving the silver gates