Shadows of moonlight are slowly fading from the chains,
bounding the darkness.
The passion burns the blood of the midnight dancer,
capturing the rhythm of the night
for the very last time.
He will stand in the garden of black roses,
casting the spell of loneliness.
Power of the dawn will touch his neck,
his dance will be forgotten, abandoned,
left beyond the stone door of the cold tomb.
Holding his hand I'm so weak,
he is taking away my power.
The reality is covered by the layer of the dust,
but I can see, he is looking at me, breaking my soul,
asking me to sacrifice the only thing I had left.
Heart of darkness is breaking the mirror,
reflecting part of the night which is the enemy of the day.
He is the creature of the fire,
though his heart is cold, left in some other time,
connected with my conscience, destined to pound in me.
The song written by desire is dreaming its most aromatic notes.
Through the sigh, cold whisper is melting from his lips,
setting the spark into the fire.
His poisoned thoughts are convincing me to touch the sun,
when, for me, one shine is enough.