While I am wandering in the valleys of lore,
He is sleeping in the essence of Christ.
When I died in the lonesome skies,
He was born in a world full of lies.
When I reached the silent forest of dreams,
He drowned inside the abyss of her trapestine eyes.
My past was his future his past used to be my future,
But no one ever caught us except our master.
If I don’t destroy, he can never find,
His time flows converse than mine.
After we together cried,
We marched for the final fight.
In the end, I’ll be him
He’ll be thine.
The Kayle to newborns of Arindhara(from THE TOOLSHED 1)