The winds 'n streams will whisper our names
like chronicles of this glorious day
The Mother Earth will cover our corpses
tho' all we're brave but all we're fay.
Our swords are shining in the moonlight
we will attack with the first sunbeam
The dawn will full with blood 'n pain
full with war-cries 'n their last scream.
Maybe the morrow will be the latest
when the air goes through our lungs
and our eyes see to rise the sun
and our ears hear to sing the winds...
This morning's different like the other
this could be the latest, the finest
it seems to be an eternity
than glory and eternal silence!
