II

	The wounds are carved to the bones, the borders have faded
	The yesterdays are hailed with open arms
	Once lost, but now arisen is the strength of the old
	And the firm beast within, the ruins lie ahead
	No blood will be shed for the fallen, no seeds will evolve
	No bridges ahead, all burned and for nothing
	Where are the books that were written with that blood?
	Hidden inside and forgotten, betrayed by their nations
	The end of the nation, the cultural genocide
	Where the path leads beyond the redemption, through the bones to the dust
	The thirst of the nature’s darkest womb, a heritage of blood
	Horns of the certain end, howling for the endless flames to rage

	The wounds are carved to the bones, the borders have faded
	The yesterdays are hailed with open arms
	Once lost, but now arisen is the strength of the old
	And the firm beast within, the ruins lie ahead
	No blood will be shed for the fallen, no seeds will evolve
	No bridges ahead, all burned and for nothing
	Where are the books that were written with that blood?
	Hidden inside and forgotten, betrayed by their nations
	The end of the nation, the cultural genocide
	Where the path leads beyond the redemption, through the bones to the dust
	The thirst of the nature' s darkest womb, a heritage of blood
	Horns of the certain end, howling for the endless flames to rage