With a name only a few could speek
the wind will tell her tale
the one who knows what shall become
keep the truth under her veil
as i wander through the misty gates, a fog laid heavy around my faith
as i wander through the misty gates, she would rise

Then i became her, and she became me
and through her eyes i was allowed to see

through the fog of misery awakens the day
she who knows what shall become has lifted her veil

Then i became her, and she became me
and through her eyes i was allowed to see
i was the river, she was the landscape
i was the body, she was my blood
and all i could feel i choose thee
i choose thee"