The Sound Which Has No Name

No ancient script
 Was ever writ
 No jewel-decked throne
 On which to sit
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 Soaring high,
 The Watcher waits
 To slake his thirst
 To clean his plate
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 His jaws agape
 His claws unfurled
 The Winged-Watcher
 Swallows the world
 The oceans rise and fall
 With his heaving chest
 And in the wind
 We feel his breath
 ♪
 No cries are heard
 No tears are wept
 For wise ones know
 The bond once kept
 The price he asked;
 The cost of death:
 A single drop,
 Still glistening wet,
 Of crystal'd pain
 To pay a debt
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 As time went on
 The debt accrued
 And we foolish Men
 The price refused
 Now all is lost
 And we, Erthwile
 Peer at the stars
 Through his crooked smile
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 Your soul is crumbling, rotting
 Beneath the chains of hate
 Can you hear those mournful, helpless cries?
 The sound which has no name
 Open your eyes
 The blackened fog has blinded you
 And with this darkness you have shrouded
 Our deep and wooded home
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 He is our fatal end
 Our recompense
 He is the fear
 We all can sense
 ♪
 The creeping serpent
 The reeking breath
 The fangs of Erebus
 The certainty of Death
 The fangs of Erebus
 The certainty of Death