No ancient script
Was ever writ
No jewel-decked throne
On which to sit
    
Soaring high
The Watcher waits
To slake his thirst
To clean his plate
    
His jaws agape
His claws unfurled
The Winged-Watcher
Swallows the world
    
The oceans rise and fall
With his heaving chest
And in the wind
We feel his breath
    
No cries are heard
No tears are wept
For wise ones know
The bond once kept
    
The price he asked;
The cost of death:
    
A single drop
Still glistening wet
Of crystal'd pain
To pay a debt
    
As time went on
The debt accrued
And we foolish Men
The price refused
    
Now all is lost
And we, Erthwile
Peer at the stars
Through his crooked smile
    
Your soul is crumbling, rotting
Beneath the chains of hate
    
Can you hear those mournful, helpless cries?
The sound which has no name
Open your eyes
The blackened fog has blinded you
And with this darkness you have shrouded
Our deep and wooded home
    
He is our fatal end
Our recompense
He is the fear
We all can sense
    
The creeping serpent
The reeking breath
The fangs of Erebus
The certainty of Death
    
The fangs of Erebus
The certainty of Death