No War Or Battle Sound Was Heard

They Who Have Put Out The People's Eyes Reproach Them Of Their Blindness.

What Neat Repast Shall Feast Us, Light And Choice, Of Attic Taste?

Where Eldest Night And Chaos, Ancestors Of Nature, Hold Eternal Anarchy Amidst The Noise Of Endless Wars, And By Confusion Stand; For Hot, Cold, Moist, And Dry, Four Champions Fierce, Strive Here For Mast'ry.

And To The Faithful: Death, The Gate Of Life.

Which, If Not Victory, Is Yet Revenge.