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In the dark forest, beyond the lying mankind |
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where glittern streams run over moss covered stones |
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in forgotten gaves where powerful secrets rest |
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thats where the lord of the heathens is waiting for the day |
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of retaliation |
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Lors of the heathens from the dark forest |
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When fog covers the land, when the nights are moonless and cold |
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he'll stan in the middle of the grave - hills and he'll swing his old sword |
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the holy sword of the heathens, which sound will sing him crazy |
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in such nights the animals will hide, the dishounourable will forsee their death |
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The trees then sing him odd and sascination melodies |
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there are ancient entreaties, runic and elf magic |
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his enes glow in the blue fire, with the promise to kill the fools |
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the wind carries his oath out of the forests - you can also hear him! |
