Yah! What power have the clouds to vanquish
souls upon the earth?
Are we but specks in your illusion,
mites to torment in your mirth?
No! I will not be your plaything!
Boil storm before my wrath
and let your godforsaken walls ring,
we dare tread upon your path.
Winds are howling in the morning,
lightning rips apart the night.
I refuse to be your plaything!
I will stand strong, I will fight!