Lyrics:

Staring through the eyes of fingers
A question of what's to be
The sorcerer strokes your senses
And offers you a cup of peace
Before you sits a table
Clothed in the cloth of red
He binds you with the beauty
To the throne on which you sit

They drive the separation
Into the river's wing
Still in itself to fly
Generation it will sing
Alcohol for the masses
Their finest poison free
Prepare a distribution
For she not to ever see

For she not to ever see