we came from the ice with swords in hand
a cold mist marked our way
far from the desert of the northern pole
we took their lives away
aye, my son, as the woodman said
flee at the mark of the sun
all that's remained of the golden age
scattered throughout the land
an army we've made to hunt them down
riding on time warped dust
numb to the sting of the light on my chest
numb to the scent of the blood on my chest
first of the strikes from the arm to the chest
the frame falls from his steed
another to the heart of his wife at rest
bloodlust will keep me from weakness
and we pillage the town rob it of it's gold
never to think twice on the act
crushing their homes with the torch of desire
women and children are thrown to the fire
on to the church with the relic of jehovah
victory shall be ours
on through the fight with a heart of iron
seiging the castle's towers
