A sudden attack in the night A hundred to one their spears close in like fangs They call from the storm to submit, but there’s blood on the ice and there’s ice in our veins
What would you take to your grave? Ancient shackles, or splintered bone? The time to stand is flying Your chance to live is dying
We paint the hills with their guts Axes rob their lungs of their last breath And our thoughts are wiped clean by the blood and the bone and the stenches of death
And when we are overrun We spit the blood from our mouths in their eyes And we don’t take for granted the feeling of freedom as each of us dies
What would you take to your grave? Ancient shackles, or splintered bone? The time to stand is flying Your chance to live is dyingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
