At the end of the rope, the humiliated being Soiled in wet straw, on it befalls clouds of spittles With clasped hands, in front of the desertion of her won people Worship facing theirs, turned towards the greatest misfortune Heretic among saints, saint among heretics Tormented by swords, spears and inquisitive hands Abased, her nudity against the wall collecting her tears Looking out the bars for her purest lie Imploring creations of help that never comes The hair between her fingers falling on the way of rats Accused of being the man she has never been Thousand splinters under her shivering skin A last glance at the one she no longer waited for Rush and lick the waverings which melt her Evaporating clothes, hair and ultimate hopes Suffocating the King's smiles and the rage of battle She rejoins her lie through paths that traitors have traced Four times the bright burns strive not to let a thing Annihilating all of lorraine up to her bones' fundamentTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
