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Standing on the top of the mighty hill |
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Fail voices are blowing with the wind |
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The light of the moon glistens in his hair |
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As he stands alone and abandoned by the night |
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He is caught, but meant to be free |
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He is strong, his power comes from within |
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And as shadows so big cover the moon with black |
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He raises his head and lifts his arms up to the sky |
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His wand creates a mighty lightning |
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An eagle appears to bear him away |
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The wolves they cry out frightening |
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And wind blows through his hair as he flies away |
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Into the night |
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Soon he disappears |
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And in the back the attack of the black riders start |
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The sound of black hooves echoes in his mind |
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But forever he will roam |
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Forever he'll be there to fly away |
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And no one ever stops him on his way |
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The strong ones they were born to survive, not to die |
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And I wake up awaiting my last cry |
