Forever set, a precious moon is lost.

The others mourn him, with ceremony grand.

Rising up to heaven, the mighty moon of frost

With a melody from the mourning band.


Harvest Barren, wine spilled, lover slumber

beside the bloody scarlet eyes.

Though cut in half, shall be your number

'tis not lost, wherein your advantage lies.


Amuse yourself with the entr'acte.

Seek out new friends once in a bind.

Perhaps to the east one can be tracked

the one most needed, you're sure to find.