Северный Флот Стрелы

A son of the sun, with a mask on your face,
The fairytale's done, you're alone in this place,
The years have just come and left you behind...
Do you feel the wood grain with the skin of your hand?
Here is the door, you must understand,
It closes the circle you're destined to find.

The deed is not done and the blood is still hot in your soul,
Your body's not bent, you are still in control.
I know they have measured it all, you're unsure of the way, but
The arrows will drive all the beasts from their lairs today.

Your feet don't recall where they're going from here,
Your hands do not know who to save or hold dear,
This city will soon become summer rain.
To the warm, gentle rustles of dreams that we wove,
You left, like the proud, lonely King of the Jesters, you rove,
But know that we're here, and we'll see you again.

The deed is not done and the blood is still hot in your soul,
Your body's not bent, you are still in control.
I know they have measured it all, you're unsure of the way, but
The arrows will drive all the beasts from their lairs today.

The deed is not done and the blood is still hot in your soul,
Your body's not bent, you are still in control.
I know they have measured it all, you're unsure of the way, but
The arrows will drive all the beasts from their lairs today.