"® Writing poetry in the fields of Bretagne ¯ expresses a wish that never  happened. The sentence came to me when being on tour with my band. We were  crossing the land of Bretagne and the landscape with it's woods and menhirs  seemed so inviting. Visions of Celtic traditions and legends immediately came to  mind and the unreachable within reach. Due to a busy schedule it was impossible  to stop and really taste the atmosphere. It always has been my experience that  events that ALMOST took place are the most inspiring for reality had no grip on  the whole. This way a strange kind of magic, a dreamworld even, can remain  intact."    Blood red skies like a messenger of doom  Skeletons on parade in villages on fire  Divine maidens suffering from the plague  Apocalypse my friend put these cities into dust    Dust on coffin lits  Tales never told  Citizens living in cages of glass  Writing poetry in the fields of bretagne  But hear the cries of a distant battle    Cardinals in decay and Gods who failed everywhere  Nero's fiddle distuned, Rome into flames    With wings wide spread I wish to fly  Like an eagle embracing the sky  Dying during a final flight  Oh deliver me from life    Plundering savages drunk with bloodlust  Knights in armour now long vanished    Jesters holding the crown  Noblesse fading away  Noblesses fading    Blood red skies like a messenger of doom  Skeletons on parade in villages on fire  Divine maidens suffering from the plague  Apocalypse my friend put these cities into dust    Dust on coffin lits  Tales never told  Citizens living in cages of glass    Writing poetry in the fields of Bretagne  But hear the cries of a distant battle    Cardinals in decay  Gods who failed everywhere  Gods who failed...  TRISTESSE!