Its just a feeling,
I get inside sometimes,
a broken heart,
in a daemons mouth thrives,

A grinning crescent moon,
A grinning crescent moon,
is always a welcome sight
but in the scorching daylight sun,
I shall always hate to fight.

'Tis not the mad mans place,
to tell the sane the way to live,
and yet this feeling,
I get inside sometimes,
when ruled by a mad man,
will always seem to thrive!

A million million bonfires
Metamorphosis this land unto a desert
When the Lady Gaia awoke
The sparks of war erupted on Her forge,
And now a million million forest folk
Stand burning in their groves
Because this feeling I get inside
Is denied to them by their mad men
Their fragile bodies will soon die
And inside a new world desert
The blackest daemons will always thrive!


Penned by my hand on the 25th of Sarapin, in the year 280 AF.