There are kings Who will drink your last drop of blood And there are slaves that pathetically worship fools There are hills, that see the nights purest silence Then there are ghost mountains Defiantly conquer kings Will you drift quietly Life a corpse downstream? Swollen and suffering Yet survival instinct is steadfast Swimming against the stream As the sun disappears Relentless battles and wars if survived thicken the skin Preserve the holy eye which an enemy can never destroy