A chill in the air

Atmospheric matrix sweeping on bohemian campgrounds

When the voices of violoins carry the entranced

wanderers in a ring of firelight

Creating strange sorrowful dancing shadowy shapes blessed by


The scent of exotic incenses and spices

A nomad ritual of mourning for dryads and their sylvan kind

Torn from the earth by the fouls


...and as the roaring fire melts away the sadness

The cards of fate are cast to the west

In a last hope for these green lives

Torn from the earth by the fouls

A curse upon the emperors and their mighty delusions

May the polluted wind rightfully melt the wheels of gold;

infect once and for all their corrupted shells

...and let them choke


These gypsy souls sang an ultimate cry

For the pain, for the suffering

Cause by clone-minded leprechauns

Purse-driven greedy assassins


These gypsy souls sang an ultimate time

For the pain, for the suffering

A feast of atrocity offered by so called nobles

...but now comes the Djinn, make a wish...