We are drifters on the sea,
Holding hands amidst the tide.
Injured all are we,
Leaving our ennui behind,
Hasting out of Paradise.
Never will we see
The places we were forced to flee.

We are squires to the flame,
Our skin and hearts are charred.
Inside we are the same,
And bore our battle-scars
While resting arm-to-arm
Despite the pain,
For we survived the wrath of Cain.