Swift hooves of rigor mortis Funeral sky over funeral steed The graves are open
Bottomless quiver of plagues The bow is drawn, and the arrow is nocked The graves are open The bow is bent, and the arrow is shot
We sing thy glory Thou wild tide of death We kneel before thee Oh, pale deluge of marching bones Marching bones
The big hand is on dying The little on death The seal is broken By an avalanche of marching bones Marching bones
Skull wagon, wall of coffins Fields lush with gallows and Catherine wheels The graves are open And keen to show us the meaning of greed
Enchanted forest Of Falun, red spears We kneel before thee Oh, rattling wave of marching bones Marching bonesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.