Nowa

High on high I stand,
Gazing down to see
The endless garden awaiting me!
Red bloometh the rose of conviction!
And Red bloometh the rose of hate!
Yes, Red bloometh the rose of conquest!
Only blood will sate!
And the war it wageth on!
T he storm it rageth on!
The bold ever fight on!
Their lives echo in song!
Hah!
All, like snow, they fall,
Petals plucked and strewn,
Yet from their seeds grow this war anew!
Blood trickling down from my fullers!
And blood trickling down from mine hands!
Yes, Blood trickling down to Hydaelyn!
Until I alone stand!
And the war still wageth on!
The storm still rageth on!
The bold blindly march on!
Their lives lost in a song!