A keresés eredménye

The Death March of Freedom

Sihouettes of a wanderer, the call of the hills, boot leather, my spirit's mount
The weird and the world and me, all seeing the stars of the navigator
Heaven rejects and hell follows, there is but time without sense
There is but the smell of temptation glowing from the red-and-white of my veins
 
I bleed my tracks into the snow
I let your hounds find me
I paint the rune and ring of my blood
I part death in the middle
I go forth to wander again
 
Join the choir of loose heads, the bloodless observe from the heads of spears
Eyes, mouths wide open in silence shouting and horrifying
An empty harmony, a flawless discord, without words they ask why
Beloved, you only send your slaves for fun, and that's why no-one returns
 
I bleed my tracks into the snow
I let your hounds find me
I paint the rune and ring of my blood
I part death in the middle
I go forth to free your slaves
Towards death!
Towards death!
 
A black world, irritation but no worry, they don't bother a lunatic
Live here and now, soon you'll be underground with a rotten grin on your face
Must cut cronies into pieces on the ground, must express gratitude for the winter sacrifice
 
I bleed my tracks into the snow
So you'd come, you'd lay me
I paint the rune and ring of my blood
I kiss your neck with it
Wrap your hands around it
I bleed my tracks into the snow
I let your hounds find me
I paint the rune and ring of my blood
Come and take my heart
Towards freedom, towards death!