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.