The gloomy choir mumbles The requiem while The radiance ignites the air Burning in the skies, creating Empty spaces where life used to flourish, When they come for me I'll transform myself into a Robot boy wondering blind and deaf at the mythical Jornada del Muerto, just Waiting for the end of all things on a terrible Blackout, the heritage will be disputed by Wretches and kings screaming insanely Wisdom, justice and love, the world has turned Iridescent under the massive and unstoppable Fallout and I have to choose, becoming The catalyst of this crimson doom, or becoming The messenger.