When the night, takes its place and dark cold is getting strong there are echos among the trees Theres a plain, near that woods and the rivers floating by, its water is full of blood From the plains, coming noise the noise of thousand man whose dying painfully Smell of blood, taste of flesh and never ending scream thick presence of the death Everything is fading in the air with lamentation of the fallen Everithing is coming to the end hear lamentation of the fallenTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
