Of life, I hold the moments so precious still. In the memory of what was wonce faded, a memory. Times that were unspoken of, that time forgot. Or was it? The times that time forgot are what are echoing in the memory of those who don't know what they are, but they want to know. Love lost dying, but that is only the shadow of the heroic past.
Of life, I hold the moments so precious still. In the memory of what was wonce faded, a memory. Times that were unspoken of, that time forgot. Or was it? The times that time forgot are what are echoing in the memory of those who don't know what they are, but they want to know. Love lost dying, but that is only the shadow of the heroic past.