Oh we of empty hands... Oh we children of calamity... How could we have known That it would have come to this? We are overcome in the wake of your passing Struggling forms sifting Through shadows, searching Many are the voices of the dead, The severed kin forgotten Betrayed, ghost voices among the ashes Ever calling to us on the wind An now by those sinew holds the hand That guides the arrow? Whose lore to we inherit The scavengers of dreams? We tremble in the blackness In the paling of our marrow As we fill our throats with earth In hope the elder voices become our own