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Darker and darker in a deep dead silence / Behind the walls of a poisoned fog / Lost in eternity a realm arises

Buried and lost in the labyrinth of time.

The moonlight turns into night / As far as the eye can see / Everything seems to be frozen / And the blackening sky never ends.

The soul of this unanimated fresco seems to sleep and / Wait for the moment to awake / As if the ever blowing winds, would blow for the centuries to come.

Across the trees of the forest around / A procession of faceless shrouded men / Endlessly walking and whispering the chants / Of an age buried in the labyrinth of time.

As the earth is tearing open / A cloud of ravens rises through the skies

And darkens the pale moonlight / That hopelessly spreads her rays through darkness.

Suddenly as silence came back / Adopting the path forged by the crows / Four silhouettes arose from nothingness / Joining their hands in a ceremonial chant / Summoning elements to revive the sleeping spirit / That was once living here

The winds that have always blown here, will blow for the centuries to come.