Nilfgaard - Black Feathers | Текст песни

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• Nilfgaard
• Black Feathers

The air is thick of grey smoke.
The air is thick of (the) prophecy long forgotten.
The air is thick of salt sweat,
The air is thick of sweat of these who fall in Sodden

He puts on his black helmet.
Rustle of the raven wings.
His sword gets unsheathed,
Craves for its cuts and swings.

Black horses and their hoofs'
Savage clangour on red stones.
Wild and manic death ride
Within great Cintra walls.

Pitch black feathers, crimson fire,
Silent groaning left behind.
Decimation, ravage, wreckage,
Ruins of her broken mind.

Death, destruction in my city
Broken defence, this is the end
Why has Fate choosen me
Hunting for royal blood
Are you my saviour?
Are you my fate?
This is Nilfgaard's wrath
Warrior with black feathers

He puts on his black helmet.
Rustle of the raven wings.
His sword gets unsheathed,
Craves for its cuts and swings.

Black horses and their hoofs'
Savage clangour on red stones.
Wild and manic death ride
Within great Cintra walls.

Pitch black feathers, crimson fire,
Silent groaning left behind.
Decimation, ravage, wreckage,
Ruins of her broken mind.

Death, destruction in my city
Broken defence, this is the end
Why has Fate choosen me
Hunting for royal blood
Are you my saviour?
Are you my fate?
This is Nilfgaard's wrath
Warrior with black feathers

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