The sun on the cobbles, a young Florentine lord, Counting the liras his father had stored. But a traitor’s kiss on a bright, bitter morn Left a boy with a name that was tattered and torn, And the world that I knew, it was broken and worn. Now I’m leaping the rooftops, a ghost in the grey, With steel in my sleeve and a debt I must pay. These family chains, well, they chafe and they weigh. Oh, I’m the blade in the candlelight, A shadow that’s dancing just out of your sight. I’m the promise of dawn that the eagle in flight brings, A rich boy who learned how to fly on broken wings. From the ashes of fire, a hard, holy creed, Is teaching a man how to live and to bleed. Oh, Roma, you viper, so decadent and deep, With your Borgia poison and your secrets you keep. I found my own cathedral in the brothers I trust, Not for vengeance or glory, but because one man must Stand for the voiceless, for the lost and the just. Leonardo, he built me the future to hold, While Cristina, she haunted a heart that grew cold. Every lesson in loss made me fearless and bold. Oh, I’m the blade in the candlelight, A shadow that’s dancing just out of your sight. I’m the promise of dawn that the eagle in flight brings, A rich boy who learned how to fly on broken wings. And these fists once so clumsy, now they’re nimble and free, There’s no man left inside me — there is only the Creed! Years rolled on like the Bosphorus, steady and slow, Showed me truths in the mirror I didn’t want to know. In an old, dusty journal, the circle was spun, The war’s never over, it’s never quite won, It’s a flame that we carry for our daughters and sons! And freedom’s a garden you plant with your pain, And the truth is a weapon, again and again. And nothing you love ever stays — it’s the price of the rain… But I’m still the blade in the candlelight! Still the hymn in the dead of night! I’m the echo of hope in the hearts that we keep, A weary old man who has finally earned his sleep. And in every new dawn, you will hear my old plea — “The boy that I was is the man I will be!” Requiescat in pace… let the cathedral bell ring, This soldier of silence has finally learned to sing. And Florence still holds me… out there in the rain… Ezio Auditore… Just a scar that still remains… …Just a scar.
