Though the wall of truth we
built now proves less strong that our vanity made it and though days of wonder,
peace and hope shall never again be reborn; ride not into battle now without
armour. For comes softly tonight the mountain wind to lay the scent of the
world on our sleep. To placate troubled minds and transcend those first breaths
that ever we drew when gazing upon the world with a new imagination. For twas then
we became free as the air itself; to move in waves across a clouded outlook. The
day is now come, the old land is ever to be lost and though we men sigh and the
women lament this terror, ever we knew; it would always come to this