the night sleeps again on sunset,
a young man with an old soul,
waiting for the future,
crying in vain, crying inside.
under a silver moon,
protected by a pagan pentacle,
with a twelve-rayed sun,
crying again, crying alone.
keeper of a forgotten poetry,
warrior in a hyprocrisy world,
apprentice in arts of heaven,
crying for justice, crying for you.
the last incarnation of indigo,
comes to care this world,
maybe he can rest in peace later,
in the duality.
direct from the bowels of earth,
comes to live once again,
between heaven and h-ll,
and play with darkness and light.
men without loyalty, malicious ones
and censorship swords,
menace of hunt and death,
nothing will be enough.
in this mourn, mistery of life exist,
with tears, gods warns to beings,
in night the young man prepares,
while poetry is written.