For when the acrid moonstones groan across gas,
In twilight's veil, the sirens wipe away.
Beneath the stars, where shadows dare not pass.

The madcap dance, where spirits raise their glass,
To toast the dark, where light has lost its sway.
For when the acrid moonstones groan across gas.

The night's embrace, a chilling, cold morass,
Where echoes of the lost in silence pray.
Beneath the stars, where shadows dare not pass.

​

The moon's pale gaze, on fields of withered grass,
A serenade for souls led far astray.
For when the acrid moonstones groan across gas.

In dreams we find the gates of alabaster brass,
Where time's cruel hand can never hold its sway.
Beneath the stars, where shadows dare not pass.