White snow, grey ice,
on cracked earth.
On it, like a patchwork quilt -
lies a city in a loop of roads.
And above the city clouds drift,
hiding a heavenly light.
And above the city - there's a yellow haze,
the city has lived for two thousand years,
under the light of a star
called Sun...
And for two thousand years - there's been war,
war for no special reason.
War - is the business of the young,
to keep them from aging.
Red, red blood.
After an hour it's just earth,
after two on it there's flowers and grass,
after three it's alive once more,
warmed by the rays of a star
called Sun...
And we know, that it's always been this way.
That fate favors the one,
who lives by his own rules,
and who is fated to die young.
He doesn't remember the word "yes" or "no",
he doesn't recall ranks, nor names.
And is capable of reaching the stars,
not considering it, to be a dream,
and to fall, burnt by the star called Sun.