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The LegionDry skin backroundMakes the circle of the rite Hard sounds everywhere Storm is coming I take ritual mask I am the teacher of the arts Nobody knows my thoughts I am the writer of the stories I am the writer of the darkness Maker of powerless hands Show me remains of humanity And clocks which countdowns the time Paths of difference like stone are eternal Coming the legion of hybrids Coming the legion of hybrids Coming the legion of hybrids Coming the legion of hybrids The wind is wild and souls are between Strange desert burns the flame of illusions Dry skin backround Makes the circle of the rite Hard sounds everywhere Storm is coming |