Grim woods of extinct northern lands Where only spirits walk upon the overgrown paths Towards the sunsets over ancient labyrinths of stone And pagan monoliths are yet to pierce the skies
Horned moon spills it's stellar grief Unto the silver mirrors of the crystall lakes Where titanic ruins dream their endless dreams Awaken ghosts of glorious past, of rise and downfall
Grim woods stand as the hosts of old With rusty helmets and the broken spears against the sky The silent witnesses of countless ritual murders And evil sorcery is spilt among these winds
Distant thickets echo with the ghastly screams From the cursed pagan altars of the tortured souls Old gates of wisdom closed, unreached Forgotten, sealed with keys of blood
Grim woods are listless, cold as hearts of men The men that did forget their own roots The answers are known, yet none shall speak Where only spirits walk upon the overgrown paths