Gates of Iron

In the night of the sixth day
Behind those gates of iron
Under the sign of the silver ray
Children are playing among the graves
Blond and delicate children
Pale and angelical faces
Running among the shades of the trees
Following the zephyrus wind
All of them are playing the same game
Till the iron bells starts tolling
Blond and delicate children
Pale and angelical faces
Bats flying under the moonlight
The vestal standing up in an imaginary circle
The wind blows on her crown of flowers
A trip on the psychic spectrum
This is the ritual of the igneous angels crying
Those ones who begin to dance during the nights
Going within your more intimate and secret dreams
Stabat mater
Stabat mater