Now let me tell you one true story
About love, and death, and glory.
That was the epoch of the bravest,
The strongest men, the prettiest fairies.

There lived a black insurgent angel,
The evil one, but filled with magic;
He hunted people, showed no mercy,
Until one man revealed his forces.

Withstanding all the witchcraft mantras,
He drained the power of his hunter.
Another angel, lost and found,
He spread his wings and left the ground.

Two angels flew like death and life;
The black one killed with just his sight,
The white one healed with his own hands;
They clashed each night above the land.

They came together in the battle,
So many nights the thunder rattled.
The Black had lost his vicious powers,
He fell unwinged, stabbed, burnt and cowered.

The Black had died, The White, now wounded,
Felt all alone, lay still and moonlit.
He had become a human being.
His wings fell off, the sores were bleeding.

He saved the Earth, but was forsaken,
Despite his strength that had been taken.
Today he hides himself among us,
And waits to start again his own path.