Crave the blood of our grands Consumed by eternal haze Left the path of roaring ties Led by ancient signs
Sorrow lies
See the lightning’s magic glare Fire, water, earth and air Sow the seeds to our land Reaped by honoured men
Mourning fens to memorize
Joy of balmy-granted suns Pride… and sorrow dies Fill the mead on our lips Hail and sing to send away… Away the weeps!
And shame as curse on our hands Buried by voracious sands Heft the burden of our sins Led by weird wins
Now we bleed
Seal the hightning’s tragic dull Colour, grimed by human hull Row the weeds of our land Awoken by indebted men
Duty calls to vitalize
Joy of balmy-granted suns Pride… and sorrow dies Fill the mead on our lips Send away the worthless weeps The weeps of our orphaned kind We’d forgot about pride But fylfot flies in bloodied skies Inundated souls rise!