Grave - of this revolution. Day - when the eagles fall. Ashes - still glow in the desert. Justice - taken from the hands of a warrior. My voice tries to create the call, empty echo is its only friend. No sword or axe is gleaming in these fires of revenge. Tied - are our weapon arms. Died - have our legions of truth. Still - our heart pounds in anger. Will - breathing through this opression!
Гуру Песен