You have sown,
around the path of old wisdom,
hammered,
your flags between the eyes of mors.

This is the wrath of restless demons,
from the heart of the land they come,
this is the fight of our inner demons,
screaming yells and hoisting swords made of your wrath,

On the chest of the lady,
the eagles dictate your punishment,
they’re armed and hide,
as the dark clouds eddy before the storm at your pride.
A coven of wolves,
guardians… bang!!!

Eddy before the storm at your pride.
Burning wrath,
a virgin from the disease came,
faith no more.

Frigid like the touch of a lord.
Trees are flags of emerald army,
as their swords are made of your wrath