Some broken stones left by an old tower
In this world of my own
Some bent young wild trees carry some nice birds in this world of my own
I move in silence i keep an eye on grounds built centuries ago
I feed myself with memories of this place i'm one of those eternal shapes
Wind blows and i'm dancing through what seems dead in this world of my own
I've been reigning over ruins for ages and remind those who want to know
Bearing the burden of the war, tears and the blood
I'm the guide of these remains.
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