Let's turn the page, let's go again through wasted fields of ice and flames. Let's go to where new down shall rise, the ancient breed has not demised. No olden kingdom will unflod, no valiant host again stands tall, but ancient tongue still fills the air if toadstool glows in land they dwelt.
The westering Sun is dead and gone dimmed down by children of a gun. But it is still alive I mean in wasteland where the toadstools grin. Ones living in their house of cards, in grey wan light they are apart, but they will be together weld when toadstool glows in land they dwelt.
In shambles of the humankind there will be chance to free our mind. The only way that I have seen is wastelands where the toadstools grin. So I don't need no force of Rome, so I don't need no brier or rose, just take me to my own sweet home, eternal rest where toadstool glows.