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He stands in the black woods

Broken and swollen hands

His army is crawling back

This sight is stolen goods

He knows no solution

Handling higher road burdens

Portrait of a tired warrior

Stare of a frightened child

No pain, no gain

He knows it too damn well

He’s stuck in between

Two hundred years

Integrity has its way

Hopes for better future days

Freedom is only a step away

He lullabies himself

In his forsaken kingdom

Perfection drowned in misery

He is the king of it all

He is the jester in red

No pain, no gain

He knows it too damn well

He’s stuck in between

Two hundred years

Falling awake, dreaming up

Swallowing tears of painful delight

The stars are dead long time ago

But the stubborn bastards still glow

Mountains are small, knees are weak

All he thinks of is: breathe, just breathe…