The holy altarwhich has laments in the middle of the last prayers banquet. It takes the old oath in his hands
I was born in your eyes
I am on the ruined castle and in a drop on your chest
" The sun was died. It Couldn't resistance to the night... The little king is celebrating the night behind the ramparts..."
The gold tears spills, the one of them is master of the real myth, waits the dawn with pain.
There were voices in their silk bags nails was made of silver with cold horseshoe voices
The voices was like the night's resistance of the sun
Fate and treachery
How could they tell the truth?