The cold breeze strokes the soil joined by mist pursued by rain blows as a call of the ancient wisdom mist filled with tears of ages so old from the days when the flowers grew
My courage disappear of what mind creates spirits walk by my side, touching my hands lead me onward, the direction of grief to the forsaken, a soul covered by misty veil behold, the mourning faces with scars so deep, shine so pale
Mist filled with tears of ages so old from the days when the flowers grew
With stakes in their hands a symbol of what used to be forlorn in the shade of the so called reality ......Forlorn As a Mist of Grief......
Their silent movements perform as flames the gathering of these souls which the fullmoon claims
Brings the shades together as a mist of grief fills the space between the carved trunks the columns of the everlasting thatch hold the souls who perform as shades beyond mist reaching hands out searching for something to grip as eternal sleep of death out of their hands will slip
With stakes in their hands a symbol of what used to be forlorn in the shade of the so called reality ......Forlorn As a Mist of Grief......
Their sins in life brought them within these fears never to see the light, it will never be in their sight comes toward me, stands so spectral even paler winds blow from behind, their children they will findTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
