I hear her crying the tears of an Angel, the voices I hear in my head. Blessed the fruits are the corn of the earth. Mother earth holy bloodof the dead, the water in rivers and rhymes rises quickly. Are flowing and flooding the land, the sea shall return once again just to hide them. Lost souls on the Isle of the dead !
ㅤㅤㅤ　ㅤㅤ　ㅤ ㅤ