It is strange
To find so much to have been a dream
To find a soul lost can be found
Is this Fates' play, to arrange,
To distort and redeem
Just any lost soul around?
I stand at the gates
Awaiting the entrance
To swing wide
Placed by the hand of fickle Fates
To play at their dance
In the chance to save my hide
Blade in my hand
Hair out of my face
I am the best, making any other look weak and frail
To conquer this mortal land
Pitted against my own race
I wonder, will the children in the generations to come hear the tale?
Believe that I stood here
Here by the gates
To knowledge lost and then discovered anew
My wounds, I know, are severe
And yet those capricious Fates
Set this dance, and wait to see what I shall do
The blows come quickly now
Given easily and swiftly returned
To the hollow victory I shall achieve
Betrayed by siblings, oh, and how
My dying fire has burned
Those who hear the tales, will they believe?