White clad mystic bearded olds walks along towards the oaks For a secret sake they gather around, they give no answers
Under moon and stars they sacrifice Blood of cattle flows upon the stones
Climb the age old sacred oak, cut the mistle, kill the bulls Make an elixir of antidote, to cure the unborn child Heal us all, celebrate the mistletoe On the sixth day of moon, the pagan ritual, has begun
Surrounded by an aura of light, making way for our future by the force natures gods and grace, the time is right at lastTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
