The cloaks of winter falls
before my feet and sings,
a song for the dying of light,
and birth of the blackness.
In what rivers
shall these songs rest,
and when will they die?
Not more than a hand
can stir its inner beauty.
But so fragile it will fade,
and delicate it stays.
Upon the stars
these songs will echo, over all.
But strong as a sirenes call it stands.
The melting tears of many...
the song of honest truth.
The song for all to see...
(the song) for poet winter.
Morning light appears
as souls break loose and fly.
Spendour of forgotten days return (within these cries).
A chapter fulfilled on these days of tears.
A symphonie that dies, but lurks behind these closing eyes.
A billion words can not explain,
the secrets of sky and oceans.
Nor tempting of night and day.
Rain sweeps the souls beyond infinite dreams.
While heavens are cursed,
and the searing rain poors.
Evenfall sets in
a deathlike serenade.
On crimsons winds these heroes fly.
But forsaken dreams of splendour,
will not make
the sun rise.
The rebirth of their elder souls.
A tragedy forlorn.
Breath her wind and taste her rain.
Only the warmth can be a shield.
None but these songs can be a gain.
Washed by the rain. Washed by the rain.
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
