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Rites of a sacred kind;

A kind which worship and almighty creator;

They baske inside there sewn;

To reap what is begotten;

Reaping what is sewn;

Sewn to the earth and skye;

A Skye which has fallen to dusk;

A Sun darkened to ashes;

A Moon riveted in blood;

Blott out the Sun;

Cross out my eyes;

For they are blind to reason;

There's a reason for being;

There's a reason for life and death'

So destroy your trinket idols;

And graven thy soul before the dusk;

These are the last Rites;

Rites of a sacred temple;