The lands are painted red with my brothers,
Thirsty are the blades that slaughter names,
Dead warriors linger among their graves searching,
Victim to the violence that is without merit or fames,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars...
The grassy moor talks of peace and neutrality,
But within the shadows, bows to the wolves maw,
You cannot blame the weak for stepping down,
Horses sleep in the light of the moon warriors paws,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars...
The land of golden leaves is filled with thieves,
They crawl amongst the waste and beneath our feet,
Drunk on their sorrows, happiness is robbed from their souls,
A queen and friend of wolves, leads them like sheep,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars…
The men from a future long past, look to the east,
Contemplating their lust for more that glitters in the dark,
Rebels within their own, mute the howling wolves,
They are blind to the bleeding infectious mark,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars…
Deathly cold air, warms and breeds powerful men,
Bears unwilling to let demons devour their inheritance,
Armed with their swords and traditions, they make war with wolves,
They fight as true sons and daughters of sufferance,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars…
The vicious wolves are mere puppets of a greater evil,
They toil and tarnish traditions held for centuries,
But they are simply dogs, scared to displease their master,
For their failure would only seek to bring more miseries,
Rest now child, for Sovngarde beckons in the stars..
