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In the misty darkness of my dreams |
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I wander through the fields |
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The fields of blood and agony |
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where so many had to yield |
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Through all the ages |
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Through all the struggle for life |
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Against bondage, oppression |
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For freedom and hope |
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With the hopeless ideal to |
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survive |
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|
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This is a tribute |
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to all the heathens who died |
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Tortured, enslaves and burnt |
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to death |
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by the servants of religious lies |
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|
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Religious lies |
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|
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I hear their mouning in my head |
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the pain and misery |
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Betrayed and slaughtered |
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they were damned |
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to this place without relief |
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And all the slain theu took at me |
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Eith widley opened eyes |
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Their faces are distorted masks |
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congealed in silent cries |
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|
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do not believe |
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Do not obey to their priests |
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Who want to control you |
|
and spit on your roots |
|
to justify their bloody deeds |
|
|
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This is a tribute |
|
to all the heathens who died |
|
Tortured, enslaves and burnt |
|
to death |
|
by the servants of religious lies |
|
|
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May their spirit rise again |
|
to enlighten me |
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And to bring back the lores |
|
got lost in dark centuries |
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May their ghosts rise again |
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just to frighten those |
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Who dare to convert innocence |
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by force |
|
|
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And their spirit |
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Spirit shall rise again |
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haunt them - to take revenge |
|
|
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Cleanse the world |
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and then rebuilt |
|
the mighty heathen throne |
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Cleanse the world |
|
and then rebuilt |
|
|
|
May their spirit rise again |
|
to enlighten me |
|
And to bring back the lores |
|
got lost in dark centuries |
|
May their ghosts rise again |
|
just to frighten those |
|
Who dare to convert innocence |
|
by force |
|
|
|
do not believe |
|
Do not obey to their priests |
|
Who want to control you |
|
and spit on your roots |
|
to justify their bloody deeds |
|
|
|
This is a tribute |
|
to all the heathens who died |
|
Tortured, enslaves and burnt |
|
to death |
|
by the servants of religious lies |
|
|
|
May their spirit rise again |
|
And to bring back the lores |
