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Burn my throat, red tincture.
Bring my cheekbones together, with the bitterness of potions.
Like the ancient drawings of a forbidden figure
The sacred Montsegur will rise from the ruins.
I am a widow's son and a faithful troubadour
His chosen one named Endura.
I know how nature changes in the fire,
Coming from the captivity of creepy creatures.
Эта песня о скорости жизни, о том, как важно многое успеть. О выборе пути. О гонке за тем, что по праву принадлежит каждому из нас.
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