The Black Hunter

Theres a cold breeze in the air Time to rise again The sun cries at the break of dawn Telling the story of an end In times when winter dies With crystals made of ice Im coming back to home A chisel for a heart of stone The devils in disguise You shall be quick and wise Hes thirsty for our souls and lives You are not welcome here We answer loud and clear Its certain he will not agree The raging lightning kills the night Paleness turns to life Then he shows up as a white hare Soulless shy nightmare One last hunt for a long lifetime Will not find its rhyme The echoes will be heard no more For this voice forlorn