I heard the noble centaurs are no more I heard it from the last of their kind The witches are gone, the magic is gone I refuse to believe it Given to be forgotten by all else Given to me by old Father Time Sister Moon remembers but the Singing Sun forgot One hundred thousand souls he happened to drop I've seen a hundred billion stars light the sky They told me they would find a new sun But the sun was nowhere to be found And The Traveller dared not make another sound I know why the noble centaurs are no more For I have spoken with the last of their kind I would not live in this world, had I a sliver of choice Had I a voice...had I a choice