Carry a sword that can smite your doubts
follow the sun, its footsteps counts.
While in pension, let your heart be quill
fear is something you must kill.
If you’d pick a color, become blue
it is same with water and death and it is true
so when your cloud gathers, and the sun folds
you will be glad, memories never grow old.
carry your curse as first and be a black horse
a horn will give you wings, and an angel on course.