Metoda duży lotek WHERE DID THE TIME GO?

"You will hear my commands when cries never fade!"
"I grasp my pole-ax in hand with stock, steel, and mace!"
"I clutch the soulless winds that stir the Ginder trees!"
"I extol beneath a wrathful, yet a constant lunar eye!"

The last clash will crown one son to the Pictish throne.
"My father's the king!" cries this tyrant, aimed for bloodshed.
Three flags will fly between the Esk and Dee rivers.
"The triumph's my king!" screams this baron son, devised for war.

Follow the tracks of this mailed horseman (ge

you stole my pure intentions
you are the sickness in between
let me in, i'll bury the pain

you taught me to be sad as you
you almost made me take it all
let me in, i'll bury the pain

you bend me and you shake me
you make me then you break me
let me in, i'll bury the pain

you made me feel like a sinner
now you fear you'll die alone
let me in, i'll bury the pain

the sickness that you are
a plague that made me starve
do you think you can show me
how i've come this far

the sickness that you are
a plague that made me