All light has failed, the ghost of age, he pulls you down into the fray. What once we lost is now apace- hold guard, hold guard! They'll rush to the stage. Ablaze all the candles, awaken the flames! Set fire to the canvas, alight what you've made! (These were the words that we shuddered to pray.) Will you go it alone at the end of the day? (Ours are the sails that have fallen away, and left their crosses cast bare in the gray.) What a curious sight from our own little feet! (Black were the words that curled back in there teeth, and sent us rushing out in the streets.) The armored god, he calls us in, through tallest gates, golden in trim. The ropes we hide are growing thin- their voices cry, "Cut them again!" We'll fall on our failures, with knees on the bend, rest on the laurels we laid 'til the end, and wait by the gates 'til they open again. Don't you know, don't you know better than anyone?