Under The Sign Of The Wilderness

At the woods of the old europe
Greenlands of entwined trees
The fog hides secrets and rumours
Elder than the mountain and the seas.

Stories about and old army
Immortal souls to wander the woods at night
Seeking the smell of human living
Hunting up when the land is dark.

Stories of christian folk to fear
The population with their lies
The only god to rule the woods
Is we who stand with honour and pride.

Folk from old, our ancestors
Fearless women and brave men
Landed the woods with painted faces
Denying their christian faith and lies.

United like a pack of howling wolves…
Under the full-moon every season…
The altar where the fallen rest…
Keeps shining with the burning pagan flames…

The flames burn stronger than ever.

We offer to the gods of nature, a gift of praise and sacrifice
With each and every change of season, when moon is full and night shines
It is time to hunt beyond our kingdoms, it is time to get armed again
Now they shall know their worse nightmare, now they shall hear the ancestral voice!!

Beneath the branches, behind the trunks
Under the night-sky, below the stars
We move as shadows in frozen ground…and then my eyes could see their cross!
We are the hunters, to smell their blood
We crawl in silence, to capture porks
The silent night before the storm…
Glows with the blades of our swords!

Obey the gods of nature
Show respect for the ancient values
Pride…land…honour…
Follow the dark and forgotten
Past!