When the horror comes a-rising
And the heavens hum with war
Our great vessel of salvation
Must be broken from its core.

Rending daggers of the great ones
Shall be bound with wood and shade
If the fiery wings of sunset kings
Are ever to be stayed.

Incantations fae and primal
Bought on promises of gold
Bind the glamour to the thing
That quenches fires and fears of old

Comprehend this sacred recipe
Perform it as I've penned
Drive its fruit through Blood of Ancients
And your terror-war shall end.