The tower of gold
The fire is burning the tower of gold.
the old throne is fallen, the new throne too bold,
the fortress is yet to become into dust.
The air's getting colder, the flame fills of lust.
Once held onto mountains, and plains in its feet,
unbearable monster to those underneath
now shining again, glittering of no glory,
without need nor reason for new day to worry.
With no sign of power, of need far for help,
is scratching this tower, is losing its wealth.
In grey cloud of smoke is no memory hold,
in coal is now turning, the tower of gold.
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