The brittle present turns to marble arch,
A brawny bridge for an outward march.
Our cataracts blaze with a future sight,
Excise a darkness, transplant with light.

Henceward come,
To Seren star.
Feel the thrum,
Of Isafdar.

Ranks clap a rhythm of Baxtorian Hollow
Harps rung the ladder and flautists follow.
Swirl and sing, lift your heads and yell
Tonight we shall drink of the Voyager's Well!

(Chorus 2x)

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