The Refuge کے بول

burned villages children cry burned fields mothers die smeared faces crying thousands fell on battlefields standing by my horse the battered armor burts laying on a clearing staring at the clouds feeling down, down, down thoughts getting clearer looking around seeing tears in my eyes glaring colours everything shining from inside they lead me back to harmony leaving my sorrow back in my body moving towards a tree dazzling, grining figure on a branch dangling with its legs curious light shapes teasing me giggling around the grining figure tucking at my hand pulling me through the wood towards a city of light fairies and other beeings rushing to me filling my heart with love and harmony noticing a silver thread still leading back to the sorrow the growing desire to stay lets the thread get thinner