Skywards, the prayers we send, of no avail
No fear of death will walk among us
Almost too limb to throw the stones
Macrhing into darkness, bowed down with grief and marked by enslavement
All the prayers we sent, of no avail
They went unheard
Of no avail, the lives we gave
Our weakened legs and tattered shoes will cause no sound on icy streets
Almost too weak to cry out the spell
His servants wont slow down our steps
Blood red will be those streets and burning castles will leave
Cursed be the God who was deaf to our prayers
As we died in freedom their machines broken down for a day


Enrico,