| On this hill where blows the wind
|
| Some children are standing
|
| Feelings seems to be so cold
|
| In their deep blue eyes
|
| Why so strong
|
| They are the children
|
| Of a perpetual sun
|
| Their will is nothing else to fight
|
| The decline of their daughters
|
| Through this secret thing that is time
|
| Don’t forget your will and your honour
|
| If one day the clouds are grey
|
| Maybe that your acts are to revise
|
| Gods let’s play the chess, Again
|
| Stolen Souls
|
| Time is to throw your servants
|
| Stolen lives
|
| Spending your time to handle your pawns
|
| On the other side stand in the night
|
| An opposite young tribe
|
| Those ones obey to occult rules
|
| Neglecting the whole of nature and sphere
|
| Why so strong
|
| Gods let’s play the chess, Again
|
| Stolen Souls
|
| Time is to throw your servants
|
| More and more profits done
|
| Minds souls everything you can stole
|
| Black gods in your struggle
|
| Don’t miss who you trust
|
| Through this secret thing that is time
|
| Don’t forget your will and your honour
|
| If one day the clouds are grey
|
| Maybe that your acts are to revise
|
| Gods let’s play the chess, Again
|
| Stolen Souls
|
| Time is to throw your servants
|
| Stolen lives
|
| Spending your time to handle your pawns
|
| Stolen Souls
|
| Time is to throw your servants
|
| Stolen lives
|
| Spending your time to handle your pawns |