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The moon is full and high

The hooded figures are walking
One by one, at the crest of the hill

No wind is blowing tonight
The nightbirds are mute

The robed ones are now descending
With torches in hand, down the kluf

The leafs of the trees are freezed
Even the shadows seem to be still

Now that they have reached the glade
One by one, they are forming a circle

The silence is broken by chanting whispers
Mystic symbols are drawned on the ground

Ancient words are spoken
From languages forgotten
Some to be praised
Some to be cursed
Tonight is the night of the gathering

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