I felt thy storm away
Clear as bloody
Decisions that are mocking me
That will never be
The Voice of Redemption,
I cannot find Salvation.
Drowning as a dying star,
We would only like to call
Up for help in the clouds;
May the Order allow
This foundation to end?
That can never defend
The Sanctuary of Peace.
Will there be survival,
Or just a mocking vision
To let us escape from this
Nightmare,which is
Our curse and bless?
It is non less,
Than the Apocalypse's smile
To us;
Soon it will arise
It will be summoned by the mages,
Sorceresses will be it's heart;
That ought
Save us from this lunecy.
Now we are petrified,
Of the masters defined,
Of the Fiend terrified,
Of the Dead horrified,
By the Fate justified.
I hate to admit
That I hate;
I hate myself,
I hate my life,
I hate them;
I hate to be
I hate not to hate. |
