The sun is fading into black
The night dictates my way to feel
Cloaked by history's dusty gown
Old myths appear to me so real
From the ruins, ancient shadows crawl to greet the dawning day
Never heard of, never noticed, the sunlight soon wipes them away
Out of gloomy, haunted keeps tales were told, but never heard
Stories of forgotten times, but no-one wants to read these words
Fairy-tales of merry dances, 'neath the silver full moon's face
Nothing now remains, but memories of the glorious Pagan days
The Earth Mother's sucklings starving on her wrinkled bosom lie
A crone in ragged mourning gown, waiting for her time to die
Children of the mighty ash-tree, world-encircling Yggdrasil
Everlasting leaves have withered, ageless wood has ceased to be
Sun-God Lug, thy rays were burning - say, which raincloud covered thee?
Are thy warriors really beaten by those who love their enemies?
The Horned Hunter sounds the bugle for all heathens' funeral march
As they pass in chains, with heads bowed under Christ's triumphal arch
Subjects to the Pain-Emperor, servants to the thorn-crowned king
Oppressed 'neath the Usurper's throne in eternal suffering
An Anthem to those
Who have been nailed to the Cross
And left there for aeons forgotten
