They speak of legends about heroes with gold wings
but I saw them, and they were merely white.
The shining gold wings blazed with sins
and white were those of whose was the right.

They speak of a land where a silver moon shines
but I saw it, and it was merely white.
Modest among the stars on their lines
and not as delighting and bright.

They say times of war tend to crimson the Luna
but I saw the moon, and still it was white.
The blood on the ground was the only magenta.
I divine whoso speak if so lost their sight.