My hands are red   Admittedly, the cross is mine   The time is come   Forsake the brine   Alone with the void for a thousand years   I am the first of the reptillian rocketeers   Doom shins it's bitter brink   Its goblins casting stench to pave the way   I'm going off to seek the soul   Who'll teach me of the day   A boy will be born in the garden   I'll wait on a patch of green grass   Somehow he'll know to find me there   And place a star upon my crust   We'll trace the crescent's rim   Pawn's pursuit of deliverance   My soul a satchel for musical vim   Then I'll return to save my race