The Delphic land, the Batarian realm, Klaros and Tenedos revere my name, and my immortal desire is Jupiter. The present, past and future are through me, in sacred oracles revealed to man, and from my harp the harmonies of sound are borrowed by their larks to praise their thoughts. A poet standing so high, in his temple, with his silver bow, and his arrow, we shall sing, we shall dance, but our larks are friendly. And the angels, in their dark robes, below, of all his larks. Of all his larks. Of all his larks. With his golden harp, in the air, we shall sing, we shall dance, but our larks are friendly. Of all his larks. Of all his larks. Of all his larks. Of all his larks. His larks. Of all his larks. His larks.
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