Waken to the tides,
Thrust Earth above the seas of fate.
For we are the last of our kind,
And we are the last of our line.
And you'll flee,
For the songs of the angels,
Right through me.
For death has its mountain to climb,
For fear has its reasons,
Its rhymes to taunt the mortals.
Through thoroughfares of mist,
Stone faces on the walls,
Haunted heroes cast their glances before the storm…
Come call on me,
The first seasons of ecstasy,
Clash mouths of change,
So far…
And it’s needless to say,
That our world is dying and grey.
So come home,
You'll never be alone,
As cold as stone,
And you'll walk beside your son,
But a man is all you are,
You'll turn from us and run,
Why wont you feel.
To have all that you despise,
The path followed by the wise?
So come and stand uncut,
Uncoloured by your hate,
Loves a landslide become,
The torn mother of your fate.
For a handsome point of truth.
Shadows,
For the love of your home,
In another point of truth.