He has no home, he is alone,
Where flower stars and flows stone,
Where man's but memory, a dream,
Where only dusty winds can scream.

He is alone with us as well,
The poor physician, bound to Hell;
Where souls must suffer, he is there,
To mend, to stitch, who-knows-where.

He knows, and he saves mankind,
From monsters, from the daily grind,
From ghosts, and true to form,
From his true name...the Oncoming Storm.