My skin it burns and scorches
These twisted Seven Suns
It reeks, it's caustic
These curséd Seven Suns.

You loathsome orbs
My malice for you unbounded.
You wicked sons of Apollo
May the cities shun your name!

My hands they crack and sizzle
'neath these Seven Suns
These fruits they wilt and shrivel
'neath these Seven Suns.

The wisened ropes they wither
On harshly laboured waists
And ancient stones they crumble
Before masons lay to waste.

I beg the seasons of mercy
"Grant Icarus his revenge!"
Let them rain their naked blessings
And deliver me your end.

You'll scorch the earth that stays me
and clench the air I breathe
But come the fall of night
I'll dance upon your wreaths.

"You curséd sons,
You devlish pests,
No more, no more!"

I'll rejoice in your relief
Pay tribute to your demise
As the moonlight it embalms me
And the darkness clothes my eyes.

Now Nyx's reign commences
Her air so cool and pure
The slender fingers of night
Beckon nocturnal dawn.