A chill in the air
Atmospheric matrix sweeping on bohemian campgrounds
When the voices of violoins carry the
entranced
wanderers in a ring of firelight
Creating strange sorrowful dancing shadowy shapes blessed by
The scent of exotic
incenses and spices
A nomad ritual of mourning for dryads and their sylvan kind
Torn from the earth by the fouls
...and as
the roaring fire melts away the sadness
The cards of fate are cast to the west
In a last hope for these green lives
Torn from the
earth by the fouls
A curse upon the emperors and their mighty delusions
May the polluted wind rightfully melt the wheels of
gold;
infect once and for all their corrupted shells
...and let them choke
These gypsy souls sang an ultimate cry
For the
pain, for the suffering
Cause by clone-minded leprechauns
Purse-driven greedy assassins
These gypsy souls sang an ultimate
time
For the pain, for the suffering
A feast of atrocity offered by so called nobles
...but now comes the Djinn, make a
wish...