Текст песни Rage Of The Orientals

Forecasting the eastern rage,

Dust from the ground raises like black cloud

Covering the horizon line.

An earthquake pushes dropping dry leaves around me.

A crowd without a name!

Chaos! Voices!,

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Eyes, Steps.

Those who do not know each other,

Chaos! Voices! (Victor Hugo in Feuilles d'Automne)

Those are in a desperate union of destiny: the will to survive

And I wanted to survive!

The truth came with the first relieved breath of outcast.