[00:00.93][Movement 1: Creator]
[00:30.49]Come forth dark herald
[00:34.04]Bringer of light
[00:37.48]Bourne by the burning swans...and his plague breath
[00:44.30]Creator
[00:47.42]Of the dream coil, a halo aloft as hands entwine
[01:16.82]Painters of the tempest, with their red hands
[01:25.60]The world their canvas
[01:29.87]Through the mist of the stormglass...
[02:34.04]And Brueghel dreamt the angels above
[02:39.22]As Bosch danced in earthly delight
[02:44.44]Angels fall...
[02:46.76]Into the canvas
[02:50.90]Reaching for the light
[02:54.40]Heaven is empty
[03:00.34]...and all the beauty is here
[03:05.10]Upon this bone palette
[03:08.60]The sway of nine-tails
[03:11.62]Layered lashings of euphoria and chaos
[03:18.10]Triptychs unfold like wings
[03:21.51]As the arms of our fathers bear the weight of what they've done
[03:30.04]Anti-matter-martyrs
[04:32.89]Warmth of life
[04:37.34]Where they sing of fire
[04:39.91]Children's eyes... for they all shine
[04:43.61]As tears rise, oceans of flame billow
[04:51.26]When all dreams lose hope...
[05:10.76]And Brueghel wept for the fading sun Where have all the angels gone?
[05:14.80]Angels fall...
[05:17.22]Into the canvas
[05:22.21]Reaching for the light
[05:25.42]Heaven is empty
[05:31.02]As hell below
[05:39.84]And hell below
[05:48.90]Painted by ghosts
[05:50.42]Lords of lifeless eyes
[05:52.39]In this garden of wilted flowers
[05:57.08]Vultures spake the mother tongue...
[07:09.47][Movement 2: Cynosure]
[07:23.10]Hear the children
[07:27.62]Breathless sleep
[07:30.90]Where they dream a new day
[07:36.35]Echoing...
[07:39.69]Oh when they dream
[07:42.96]Ebb and flow,... free falling
[07:47.99]Beautiful and calm...
[07:53.43]And fragile, and whole
[07:56.20]Where they dream a new day
[07:59.43]Through the coil they course and carousel
[08:08.65]Echoes,...
[08:21.34]Hear the lost children
[08:24.05]Hear the children sing
[08:26.80]Through the coil they carousel
[08:34.50]Within this stained glass womb
[08:41.41]They sing with open minds...
[10:34.55]Within this stained glass womb
[10:40.34]They see with open minds
[10:45.96]The event horizon and beyond
[11:04.53][Movement 3: Curator]
[12:45.93]A wasteland and so barren, haunted by a sea of pale faces
[12:54.42]The city of lost children, raising their death-shrouded flags
[13:03.69]Can you hear the redrum pounding? The heartbeat of many as one...
[13:12.30]Curator, father... what have we become?
[14:58.12]Radiance, blinding horizon
[15:08.24]The brilliant sunrise
[15:12.40]Their horizons, where they seize this life
[15:21.99]Our children...
[15:25.24]Painters, they are
[15:33.18]They are, the change
[15:47.56]Painters...

Come forth dark herald
Bringer of light
Bourne by the burning swans...and his plague breath
Creator
Of the dream coil, a halo aloft as hands entwine
Painters of the tempest, with their red hands
The world their canvas
Through the mist of the stormglass...
And Brueghel dreamt the angels above
As Bosch danced in earthly delight
Angels fall...
Into the canvas
Reaching for the light
Heaven is empty
...and all the beauty is here
Upon this bone palette
The sway of nine-tails
Layered lashings of euphoria and chaos
Triptychs unfold like wings
As the arms of our fathers bear the weight of what they've done
Anti-matter-martyrs
Warmth of life
Where they sing of fire
Children's eyes... for they all shine
As tears rise, oceans of flame billow
When all dreams lose hope...
And Brueghel wept for the fading sun Where have all the angels gone?
Angels fall...
Into the canvas
Reaching for the light
Heaven is empty
As hell below
And hell below
Painted by ghosts
Lords of lifeless eyes
In this garden of wilted flowers
Vultures spake the mother tongue...
Hear the children
Breathless sleep
Where they dream a new day
Echoing...
Oh when they dream
Ebb and flow,... free falling
Beautiful and calm...
And fragile, and whole
Where they dream a new day
Through the coil they course and carousel
Echoes,...
Hear the lost children
Hear the children sing
Through the coil they carousel
Within this stained glass womb
They sing with open minds...
Within this stained glass womb
They see with open minds
The event horizon and beyond
A wasteland and so barren, haunted by a sea of pale faces
The city of lost children, raising their death-shrouded flags
Can you hear the redrum pounding? The heartbeat of many as one...
Curator, father... what have we become?
Radiance, blinding horizon
The brilliant sunrise
Their horizons, where they seize this life
Our children...
Painters, they are
They are, the change
Painters...