His crumpled hands are sliding on a sheet
His grey beard is grazing this oak table
He’s soaking his qill in his inkpot
Humanity’s fate is in his and
In that millenium book formula are crossing
Chaotic symbols are colliding, Cabala’s genius are watching
A flame is dancing
The sorcerer on his throne is writing the mist of time
Wrinkless tears his face
As his life was written onto it
Fore him, in that book
Frogotten kingdom’s key is hidden
A day will come
Where a pure soul
May open the door
Of the invisible world that surrounds us (2)
Les années passèrent, sans jamais que personne n’ait pu ouvrir ce livre maudit.
Pour accéder au savoir de ce manuscrit, il importait de rassembler sept clés.
Mais plus le monde évoluait, plus il y naissait des gens malsains.
Un jour, entre le lever du soleil et celui de la lune, un homme à l’esprit mal tourné engendra le maléfice.