There is No Name for the Past

burning eyes, not hands
i snatch treasures from the pyre
taken always to respire
in chambers for the king

ooh burn the singer says
(there is no mercy here)
but fire makes me light
these wings take me taller
my eyes are turning bright

thrice scorned
thrice drowned
arisen from ashes soft
i go down to die
heart's gold is held aloft

this part in precious vessel
for you alone, liebling,
lay it down, now dying,
while you live on to sing.