Letras:William Ryan Fritch. Transmigration.

The tempests' unrest stirs from mottled clouds of milk, and all of our collisions fall on a body of wings. teeth of marrow may gnash, as sweaty scales wave plumes and thrash at the deceitful air, and gravity senses our skeleton. May our iron and arrogance corrode in the honey drench that we sought to filch with our broken hands in the lion's skull and the bees 'gain be born from the earths soaked and pregnant guts as nests of parted lips will kiss the pulse of her nape. the earth bellows for its arthritic plates as these fleeting flocks are moulting, sounding of hell metals forging grim and new - may all we devils of pulpless bone taste the drip of far reaching roots of ether

(Thanks to Zach for these lyrics)