The horsemen hang bells in the breeze to fold back time;
with every chime come memories of songs they sang.
For all their guns and greater forces, barbarians stink of their horses.
Imagine! Time begins anew with every chime.
Let's not forget, these people are barbarians.
Everyone runs... but, how bizarre, you haven't yet.
I always knew someone would change things.
We'll have to do some rather strange things.
If this is true, love is a crime.
I don't know you.
A single bird circles for landing.
But how absurd! Nothing is standing.
Nothing is true... beauty remains.
So much to do...