: axes shattered, there is no North or South. Far off, the ice is foundering slowly, the ice is turning to water, the ice is turning to water. The water
, the Lord of the Dead, can eventually save it. So we must cast aside our future fears and call out on the Boat of Millions of Years. The God of Love is
Day dawns dark, it now numbers infinity. Life crawls from the past, watching in wonder I trace its patterns in me. Tomorrow's tomorrow is birth again
on paths we just can't control; we can grow closer as we get old. Can you imagine us as we adjust? Can you imagine us getting near eighty; we live more
is Mike and Susie, West is where I love. There we shall spend our final days of our lives; tell the same old stories: yeah well, at least we tried. Into
t mean a thing, but we can be happy on our own. West is Mike and Susie, West is Mike and Susie. West is where I love, West is refugees' home. (Thanks
to fake, but which still throws you out the door; I am the air that fills your lungs, but leaves you emptier below; I am the void that you can't explain, but which is
endured. Love and hate lived on in the face of fear, Hexenhammer's force died, and the real power became clear. White Hammer no more is beaten; now