Pass of Hills

lone riders soar through the mist clad
in white from head to fight
hurry on no time to rest the day
is short - its blood for chirst
shirlies wash the sacred ground
every man shall mackle their hands
swore an oath as thunder sound
from sky, they will descend!

we will sing for heroes
till the end of last deep breath
and we raise the storm
with high lord at pass of hills

all in their wake - they must devour
crumble down the mighty towers
have appeared in sight but black as night
cloaked in robes - prepare to march
wolves are singing ,,bloody moon
of Iberian glory night"
raise your swords if die or live
praise the lord of mankind

we will sing for heroes
till the end of last deep breath
and we raise the storm
with high lord at pass of hills

follow me into the fray
many man I shall not slay
for only one i seek to find
to return to me that which is mine

sail from hell over the earth
sick and hate unkind for death
calling wise to say the lies
giant steps on in horizon