A 25th bell rings to call the people
We gather together
to remember a world
beneath a stone somewhere

In a place so very far away
Where seasons passed
so very fasy by
A hand full of memories

Growing hate will move against
a holy dark colour
A street everyone will walk
for a silver crown and elder

I can not find a living flower
in where the dark smog lies
As it took a soul
so many seasons away

Still you can not go in there
Even if a dark passion pray grows louder
And if I am lying here praying that pray
before that silver clock