The Firstborn - To Roam The Endless Plains
I am now the raging fiend
Riding the wings of a frozen wind?
For the horizon beckons me forth.
Wanderer - without perception
Wanderer - without direction
Is it my fate, to roam the endless plains?
A dead world blazes behind
A dead world burns in my mind
And the flesh with it?
A spirit of the steppe
I became ethereal
I perpetuate digression
And the illusion
Of ascension?
In circles dimmer and dimmer?
To find, one must know what to search?
Letras The Firstborn