There on the September morning Hundreds of years ago.When we mounted our horses to ride into The Mountains. Where the dragons breathes flaming fire blows. Where the water's of youth flow from three fountains.
Our steads were covered in leaflets of gold. From which stories are told. Where souls were sold. Leaving the old.And killing the bold.In hopes of riches and youth.And in the light. The truth.
Many came before, the dragon's life to take. Found their fate written on a wall. As nerves of steel begin to shake. And the only word death to call. But if the dragon die this day.Or be it mine that should fade.Could as well to part. In deed confined and pierce the demons heart.
One walks from the mountain. Alone they fought the other, One drank from the fountain. Eternity now to hover.And peace to return as the road leads to fires that burn Saphire Flames.The book upon which holds the scacred names. No eyes shall look.Walk on for nothing is the same. Except the book
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-12-01 02:00:47
Last Login: 01.30.12
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