The singing birds break the morning silence. The cries of children playing in the square. The cleric rises and looks out ht window. He smiles at the fates that brought him here.
Ten years ago, as a boy he'd come here. He dug his parent's grave with his own hand. The priests took him in and taught their mysteries. Save for the one that lay close at hand.
Blinded by innocence, his brothers had turned now. To bloodshed for power, religion gone mad. Bow to the gods of hate, he's heretic branded. Realized too late, he runs despaired and damned.
From the cursed holy land he flees. Casts aside his faith falsely received. Rage and pain and death his life to lead, Exiled heretic he'll ever be. Then when he lay close to death at last. The mysteries of the priesthood he saw past. Innocent pariah he knew then. The virtues we give gods are really men's. His true faith now returned comes from within.
A lonely man returns to his lost brothers. Saddened by his tale, they wept in silence. Warning of his fate, an agony we all bare. Faith in man, to wield, the two edged sword of faith.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
