Shattered Glass

Remember Remember

What have I done…?


Riding off into the setting sun,
in a country where only windmills stand,
no lance in hand, no shield, no crest,
all hopes and dreams of fools.

His horse is of steel and it is black
like the night that birthed him.
His face made of fear and eyes of flame
and heart of forgotten pain.

This world can never be ready
to have a place for one such as him.
The only pure heart in midst of corrupt,
the only ideal in darkness.

    Spawned by the night in rivers of blood,
    gunshot, gunpowder, treason and plot.
    Vendetta, vengeance, the deepest night,
    remember, remember the caped Dark Knight.

In a world where few realize
that windmills are more than just mills,
where every man fends for himself
there is no place for heroes.

Like Zorro who rose to the challenge,
like Robin Hood who helped the weak,
like Sherlock Holmes who always knew,
like Don Quichotte he dreams alone.

There are dreamers who will always follow,
there are birds that stay by his side.
For the mask that cloaks him in shadow
changes the man to idea.

    Spawned by the night in rivers of blood,
    gunshot, gunpowder, treason and plot.
    Vendetta, vengeance, the deepest night,
    remember, remember the caped Dark Knight.

In a world where the only music
is the song of a lonely robin,
never forget that you still may dream,
that hope cannot be killed.

Never forget that it is the mask
that is what really matters.
The symbol, idea that will prevail,
belief that cannot be killed.

    Spawned by the night in rivers of blood,
    gunshot, gunpowder, treason and plot.
    Vendetta, vengeance, the deepest night,
    remember, remember the caped Dark Knight.


    Spawned by the night in rivers of blood,
    gunshot, gunpowder, treason and plot.
    Vendetta, vengeance, the deepest night,
    remember, remember the caped Dark Knight.