Here is the place where the black roses grow. The thorns a reflection of sadness. No more shall blossoms grow, like before. Behind the door lays an emptiness where..... (no hands shall reach) Reflections fade before the setting sun.... (creation dies once more) Fade like the setting sun. Dance beside the gleaming moon. Reap the harvest of unhappiness unknown. Travel the path where the black roses have grown. Our empty pages on scrolls so frail, burn while history passes, in vain. On your face I can see those loveless reflections. Dance on the music of a lonely heart. dying foreign taste... the beauty of the night. The sadness of the night. Look at me and tell me.... what you really want. Is it your freedom or is it just me. What once was shall never return. What souls dwell on these hunted shores? What once was shall never return. What souls dwell on these hunted shores? Sadness... furthermore. What will be, will be found on the other side? A dark voice .... an horizon of light? Just a morning soul deprived, soul deprived of light. But what will, will be found on the other side?