4 acessos
There are kings, who will drink your last drop of blood
And there are slaves that pathetically worship fools
There are hills, that see the nights purest silence
Then there are ghost mountains
Defiantly conquer kings
Will you drift quietly
Life a corpse downstream?
Swollen and suffering
Yet survival instinct is steadfast
Swimming against the stream
As the sun disappears
Relentless battles and wars if survived thicken the skin
Preserve the holy eye which an enemy can never destroy