Waking Continent

<<Oh.>> Tied hands, <foreign_language> warriors close the ring. Echo chants and

power <foreign_language> arrows whispering. John Smith kneels in silence,

hard smoke fills the air. Stoned beside the fire pit, life balanced on

a prayer. Flames paint moving shadows, hearts both steel and skin.

History turns on moments, not on tales we spin. No fairytale love,

no twilight stars above. Just a captive man and a girl

the stories speak of. Truth beats the myth, when the pages

are rough. Hear the drum beat of a continent waking up. <instrumental