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A snowed in forest path |
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With lament I dream of long forgotten times |
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An image comes to my mind |
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Of a young man riding through the frozen woods |
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In his eyes rage and bitter tears |
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His village was burnt to the ground |
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He storms forth, crying out his pain |
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He is driven by his mothers last words: |
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Raise your sword, my warrior |
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And revenge us |
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Fight the men that came to rape our souls |
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Never let our gods die. |
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Hi's loved ones were no more |
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The false men with cross slaughtered them all |
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They tried to enforce strange rules |
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Which were only meant to turn men to fools |
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His people saw through the lies |
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They stood proud until the end of their time |
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By the false men they were shamed |
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Young man for your honour you will have to die. |
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Raise your sword, my warrior |
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And revenge us |
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Fight the men that came to rape our soil |
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Never let nature die |
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My vision ends here |
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And I return to the modern world |
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Suddenly I see a young man walking |
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Sad blue eyes in a bitter face |
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And there's a young man in the east |
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And another in the west |
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And another raising from the south |
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They all move on driven by the call: |
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Raise yourself, warrior |
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And revenge us |
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Fight the men with cross that raped our souls |
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Never let our gods die |
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Raise yourself, warrior |
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And revenge us |
|
Fight the men with cross that raped our soil |
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Never let nature die |
