To see a line both red and white
To play the sides upon the night
Sparks of fire burning bright
They vary on the wing

Soothing is the dual hour
As they blend, a world they shower
Two colors both posses the flower
A petal of the spring

White is empty of a fire
Delivered always from the mire
Golden, do the harps not tire
Full of youth they sing

Red weighs heavy on the eyes
And memories of a searing cry
Blind then does the red soul fly
Below the seventh ring

From a child born in bed,
To a smile, it’s been said,
To a veil upon her head,
It all begins again

You my child are but white
Piercing through the pressing night
But as I sail from down below,
It all begins again