Dancing through the cold, surrounding mist
And the shadows from the trees, stare
Born out of dim light, sons of the moon, and the shadows stare at him…
Hands bleeding and blood drips (again & again)
Falling silent to the ground, and gathers.
Fauns drinking his blood, feast at his soul, and screaming he dances
In the Clair du Lune.
The night too long, shall dawn, never come? Is he bound to darkness for eternity?
Selene – the graceful, wanderer so pure, not a virgin, but neither a whore.
Belhelth’s eyes, will be pale, pale as the horizon, in fire inhuman hands will crown him
The price he will pay, is already set, but conquer he shall, when he arrives, Nezgoulth…
The flaming… god!
Belhelth awakes by dawn, in fear he remember his dream
And he knows, that there is not much time left
Hand in hand, with Selene, he wanders against the chosen place…
Unknowing that prince Leira follows them.
Dancing through the cold, surrounding mist
And the shadows from the trees, stare
Born out of dim light, sons of the moon, and the shadows stare, at him…
Hands bleeding, and blood drips again & again
Falling silent to the ground, and gathers.
Fauns drinking his blood, feast at his soul, and screaming he dances
In the Clair du Lune.