The snow that drops turns red on the feild where the corpses lay
there spirits leave to the grandest of place
the bodies, vesles left to rot in the sun... the snow is there sheild whilst they wait for use
re animation or possibly the cure for ones starvation
the woodland race is who collects the bodies
there use is unknown to us
there time to be remebered is well far over
desicration of there flesh to preserve a long lasting salvation
of a race...
the winter is the time we harvest the flesh

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.