The sword hangs upon their heads
Drawing feelings without hope
Dissilludioned by the book of fate
On which the prophet's wrote
The tales were told by their hands
A blind choir comes to sing
Enchanted in deserted lands
A starless night begins

Mother's, widows, children cry
The seeds of war were sown
A chase start's for the end of time
As silence softly drowns

And they were left behind,
Simply horrified
When all those tongues,
Spoke tremendous sights

The hands of fools are lifted up
Confused they touch the gleam
He smiles when his puppets dance
And gently kill their dreams

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