Riding through the echoes of the past While the hooves pound to the ground Looking through the mist of the night In the dim and covering light of the
ne'er drew breath and as his daughter gave her first cry his beloved wife lay dead. He hunted o'er the moors by day with the falcon that was his pride
The memory lingers on of the arrival of dawn. They saw the beacon aflame, Burning with sorrow for the lives that would be lost. And the troops went ashore
Heading into the battle Against inferior foe. Early morning's sea lies so silent and clear. Let them feel a broadside From our three decker of pride.
Dweller of the Sombre Lanes, Crow of the gutter and grime. Striving through the dark for gain, Up to the gallows you climb. Through your most stagnant
Paved was his road with the golden bricks To the glory and the fame. Yesterday's hero sits quiet and low. Promises of future lies shattered like broken
Behind the veil of destiny The path might turn in sudden twists of irony. Night turns to day, dark turns to light. End to the beginning on the other side
Genom vattars djupa skogar Over myrars fridfulla ensamhet Branner fruktans flamma fram. Genom manbelysta dalder Over bergets rygg mott ett okant mal Jagad
Over rivers and seas cross valleys and heaths, to the edge of the world and back our journey did lead. Father up in the sky let the ravens fly,
Tunes of mendacity whispers throughout the gloom, like echoes of mystery or a lullaby of doom An illusion of pleasure an illusion of pain Yield
You grasped a pot of gold, now it looks like led. On your path of hunger the gold lies still ahead. At the end of the rainbow another rainbow starts
You're a spawn of the high cliffs, slave to the wind and son to the storm. Born to a life on the free wings, without chains to hold back your heart
Early Morning It's cold and the snow is whirling Like a warning, a promising fate But the king rests in peace on his sled Hooves are pounding So many
We dwell in a time of neither night nor day. It's like an ever-eve of a gloaming light. Our robes have gone grey as we sailed to mortal shore. The
Far down the path of firelight dreams in the blue-spun twilight hours. Along the lane of winding and silk towards the winged and sacred bowers. Alone
Hold the cross up high into the sky far above your head in sacred decadence. In pride and honour you wear the crucifix as a shield towards the bitter
From a dark horizon a harlot once came, searching for the right path to bring her to fame. Ignorance and falsity: a perfect symbiosis, for a royalty
It's the darkened years, Superstition's flying high. There is pain, there is fear In the poverty's sigh. Preachers on a frightening spree, Of demons and