the ages scorn those of ebon slumber beneath scattered mounds across the moors shattered legacies of the fallen - voices silent, yet not unheard hanging still in the evening mist their whispers linger resounding echoes of the past poised to awaken the spirits of the true with the chilling gaze through panes of black grasping for any sense of being a rapture of maddening clarity - the ancestral seed begins to bloom soil churns - awakening - rising through the decay eyes open to behold the silhouettes upon the moor clutch firm the spear passed unto us, with their wisdom we march to war the noose is tied and waiting for long due sacrifice let it be known despite the turmoil that never shall we be one...
robbed of essence are those to hang from our father's oaken arms in assurance that all once died for is never left to the worms...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
