Born of the Flickering

Enthralled into the dustwind Crusaders of a lost battle Warned by a thorn of war Jeweled in their own blood Yarns of fugitive elements In distance to the thorncastle Empire bricks thrown to the soil Sharp and poisonous thorns Pure it is, like defenseless spring births Unpleased by a sudden nightfall Turned its back on love and life And made it all unpure Love songs of the dove, seen through Time of what he song A messenger of the nourishing light Were attacked of enemy ravens So therefore, it song no more Pearlgate servants, in the end you gather In the clouds beyond clouds Foundation walls of the raising temple Prisoners of a time that was Promised sentences long before years Came to join the hearse that rode And will always ride In the hearts of them, historical plague --- Born of the Flickering - Old Man's Child