Towards the rich archaic heavens
Towards the lack diorama
You are the artist and the texture
That plays with mantle of the earth

When the bleakest of powders
Lie rooted to the starched stones
And the roots that feed the peaking trees
Embrace the sleeping stones

[Chorus:]
Archaic pearls of sleep and death
The voice of December losing its breath
As the flower-yard of white and grey is haunted, is haunted
White as the down of flaking snow
The heroic emblems of life

Green is the colour of my death
As in winter-guise I swoop towards the ground
Green is the landscape of my sorrowfilled passing

[Chorus]

We Are In Flames
Towards the dead archaic heavens
We Are The Mantle and The Texture
The alters, the mantle of the earth

[Chorus]