The sound of iron shots is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths,the rising of the horns... ahead.
Rise. As the end is near. As the death-bell comes, glimmering in your eyes.
Rise before we all fall. Fall into the deep darkness that us human created.
The darkest hours will swallow the creators.
These creators will run, and hide in what's left of the word 'lights'.
Who are we to save the world?
When darkness prevails, we should save ourselves.