A world scorched by darkness, searching for the light.

Day after day, dark as night.

Lasting generations, hoping, but what for?

The sun doesn’t rise anymore.

 

She sleeps by the darkness of day.

The girl who’ll imagine our pain away.

 

Whisper softly, softly.

Don’t let the demons hear.

“Imagineer, wake up, Imagineer!”

 

Bitten by a dark rose, bound by thread so black.

Our one true hope for our world to last.

 

Yet she never opens her eyes.

But, oh, if she did, how the sun would rise.

 

Whisper softly, softly

Don’t let the demons hear 

“Imagineer, wake up, Imagineer!”

 

And Rise.

Rise.

Rise and remember who you are.

 

Whisper softly, softly.

The light is surely near.

“Imagineer, wake up, Imagineer!”