- cifra
The man and the ghost will meet again
In the night when it snows, never quiet, never cold
Hear their calling, lost lords to cast the ride, white spears in their hands, pointing towards the sky
The ancient echoes from the wielded jaws, the bones and the scales, the forgotten lore
The calm of the night, lighting the flame
In the night when they haunt the curtain shall fall
Heroes and fools, all together, all the same, statues of the restless
Gallery of the drowned and the pale
The man and the ghost will meet again on the marshes of the old, though silent when it snows
