I'm all of the senses aloft mithral, killing, afire with knives& beating
We are the freedoms, the finesse to trust the ever free force of certainty\

Thaumaturgy brought an impaled branst, forever lights the sword cevies
And the Elven truce atones, all be gone tomorrow...the chill of ice's winter!

Tastes of the wilds
Taste of the flight
When the river runs through we're the forgotten light

Now we try leaving forced to behold such misfortune!
In flight, the killing asunder, as we never fear/ we're the warriors

Such spies, beacons, unhurting, so together we admit the furious belies

A god of Hell, the Gods of Heaven untrusting designs spiritual inside

Mithral and shallow

Tastes of the wilds
Taste of the flight
When the river runs through we're the forgotten light