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Tread high peaks
Hidden gold
Insult draws sword
Blood drips from cord

Foul, thirst quenched
O’ crimson sate
Then roasted heart
Flesh to partake

Lo! That speech of which I hear
Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers
Their intent made clear to me
Nothing stands obscured

Whispers to wind
A breath
A cut
A wound

Drank of his blood
Ate of his heart
There he sits
With corpse defiled

Lo! That speech of which I hear
Of larks, Nuthatches, sky dwellers
Their intent made clear to me
Nothing stands obscured

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