Shaman Song
Voices echo in an empty hall as fear keeps the streets alive memories of the elders rise but the young buds wilt and die as favorites become gods and their offspring fade down the centuries melodies remind of paths untold and sinister they paint with blood the bearers of good news trampled underfoot as the crowd storm their idols the words get lost but planted in mud it will unfold as was foretold Sign in to see full entry.