What phantoms chase you in the twilight, What dreads you hide beneath your might? Shall I become the strangled martyr, Or fall in the illusion of a flight? A knight who's shackled into beaming armor Will cut the vault of heaven up; For all the damned to find a harbor, To bring misfortunes to a stop. Sylvania is shining in the nightglow, Deprived of all the sympathy and guilt, She brings a brutal horrid warfare, Until a world of valour is being built.
