the white mountain blinks
sorrounded by palm trees
brought up by a sordid humor
of fate
inside us there are many tales
that soon become legend
and legend metamorphoses into myt
inside the woods the evil dwells
at Barad-Ur we are one with our darkness
building fortresses
and crying
inside the ovens the lumber burns
we build creatures from sand and water
holding together
life
in the hands of time
the witch whispers inside the dark meadow
looking through the glass eye
winds from the south bare with them a grey dawn
forgotten into clouds of fear
only our lives are at stake
so there is
nothing to worry about