They cannot know, they must not hear

Of the seven veins twisting fear

Every minute brings them near

To the Final Dusk of life and tear

None will sing or dance or cheer

After the Final Dusk appear

For all will tremble from concealed fear

The battle coming is all but mere

Sharpen your eye, tune your ear

For the Final Dusk will bring a spear

The battle coming will be quite queer

Lasting a week, a month, and a year

All the creatures, and all the gear

Remove the shadows and all will be clear

For the Final Dusk and battle severe

They cannot know, they must not hear

Until the Final Dusk is here.