The Moon and Magic

He’s standing alone at the edge of that night
Surrounded by blaze lights
Staring the murk, distant and dense
Where stories are yet to be told
At the back of a fable they ride towards crimson winds
That blow away
Ghosts on the horizons of a story soon to begin
On the altar of oracles runes are disposed
Telling faiths and aftermaths
On a crescent-shaped moon in the dark of the woods
Magic
As the lord of a castle in black, he beholds
The abyss and the river below
The glow at the end, a shine in the night
An angel with death cold eyes
At the back of a fable they ride towards crimson winds
That blow away
Martyrs predestined to see their lights ripped apart
On the altar of oracles runes are disposed
Telling faiths and aftermaths
On a crescent-shaped moon in the dark of the woods
Magic
For the trail of tears forged by the seer
Bare, unrighteous brilliancy
Oh the moon, witness of revenant fallacies
«…Angel come to me…»
On the altar of oracles runes are disposed
Telling faiths and aftermaths
On a crescent-shaped moon in the dark of the woods
Magic
For the trail of tears forged by the seer
Bare, unrighteous brilliancy
Oh the moon, witness of revenant fallacies
«…Angel come to me…»