Woorden: Falling Up. Fangs!. Streams Of Woe At Acheron.

Turn away I'll pull the fangs out
Spinning room it's getting dark
This is the green lift, this is the archer
You never say that
This is the green lift, this is the archer
This starry night, the blue of seas
Are lifted off the ground
So poised and still, the figures hold
That I will not be found
Turn away the Islet spiders
Gloaming pulse, the Siletzs stole
This is the green lift, this is the archer
This starry night, the blue of seas
Are lifted off the ground
So poised and still, the figures hold
That I will not be found
This is the green lift, this is the archer
This starry night, the blue of seas
Are lifted off the ground
So poised and still, the figures hold
That I will not be found
And on towards the fortress...