Gleaming under the golden sun.
Like a rose that stands alone.
Hidden away are your visions of grace.
Chained behind the gate of hate,
A lonely isle in the wine dark sea.
Where are the warriors when you are in need.
Alone you stand against the tide.
But you are not afraid and never cry.
The gate is strong but you still smile.
The merry laughter shall waken the sun.
All shall break and come to pass.
But you will live in story and song.