*.       ✦      °.

.                  .*✧                °

+ °                 :·.*

✦                   + °                     ☆.

*        ✧.°

:·.*                       *。                       ❨✧˚

. * ★

.                        。 • ˚                     *

*✦                  .*

❨☆ 。* 。

In the darkness of night, who would hear soft pleadings whispered to the moon.

      Asking of stories long since told.

      Asking of hope for those long since without faith.

Soft pleadings falling from murmured lips, bracing for a bitter glory and a sweet defeat.

Crying out;              Restore our hope! Restore our hope!

In the soft glow of the morning, who would hear tears falling on silk sheets.     

      Mourning for lives long since lived.     

      Mourning for ships long since sailed west.

Salt diamonds crawling down ivory skin, remains of a bitter glory and a sweet defeat.

Crying out:              Save my kin! Save my kin!

In the heat of the afternoon, who would listen to battle cries shouted in rage.

     Clamors of battles long since fought.

     Clamors of swords long since broken.

Crimson light illuminating silver steel, aftermath of a bitter glory and a sweet defeat

Crying out;              For our glory! For our glory!

But who will hear?

- a ballad of bitter glory, by nelly

*.      ✦      °.

.                  .*✧                 °

+ °                :·.*

✦                   + °                  ☆.

*      ✧.°

:·.*                       *。                       ❨✧˚

. * ★

.                     。 • ˚                      *

*✦                  .*

❨☆ 。* 。