Dusk falls as the canoes approach the shore Tribesmen line the bank with torches lit Sun sinks on the hill of the dead, a crimson glow Intentions are cloaked, they will soon know Silence breaks, lead is raining down Bodies lay across the blood soaked ground Deadly force, lives have been cut short Butte des Morts: the hill of the dead They run in fear for their lives, to the woods Path lit by the flames of betrayal Met by their rival tribe, no escape, certain death Return to the earth and curse this land
Blackest soil, won't bear life again Butte des Morts: The hill of the deadTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
