Blod-draum
A Strife Won at Wraith Walk the black path of fire to the everlasting sunless fields the owles have their flight, in the moon's sight to escape the claws of night, joined by might during the hourless night caress the mountainside and feel the souls' fade see the torches and the stones behind feel the night and see yourself enshrined In the middle of the tormenting frost I stear at flying souls so pale and lost like angels from heaven high, which left the throne of the seventh sky To join the winds' war from the north-side bay Into the forest-line and up to mountain high The forest will sing my funeral song where I at last will join the soil to enter the womb of mother earth promised to remember the surroundings from birth behold the branches which once held my hand and kept me away from the sunburnt sand A Strife Won at Wraith... Blood from my soul is already stolen And the eagles have flewn from their stones Even before the scars begin to stear Walk the black path of fire to the everlasting sunless fields the owles have their flight, in the moon's sight to escape the claws of night, joined by might during the hourless night caress the mountainside and feel the souls' fade see the torches and the stones behind feel the night and see yourself enshrined Faces scared but full of hate seems to drown in the stormfull mist to join the winds' war from the north-side bay into the forest-line and up to mountain high The forest will sing my funeral song where I at last will join the soil to enter the womb of mother earth promised to remember the surroundings from birth behold the branches which once held my hand and kept me away from the sunburnt sand A Strife Won at Wraith...
Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Jun 22, 2026
Along the Misty Morass The sun is a falling star as the moon is about to be a rising one the first sign of night so far seen through time, from forefathers to sons whisper like the shades, the souls of night the words that give me strength of gloomy sight beyond the description of the twilight's call I wish that the stars in my hands will fall when thorns of darkness rip wounds in my soul I walk through the grass like a child left alone to sing who the helping angels never bring like a blaze through the night, which covers me from mournful sight as I join their dreams Along the Misty Morass... The revelation of their eyes, gleaming so bright as I welcome the shades to follow the dismal winds Beyond the description of the twilight's call I wish that the stars in my hands will fall as the thorns of darkness rip wounds in my soul I walk through the grass like a child left alone to sing who the helping angels never bring like a blaze through the night, which covers me from mournful sight as I join their dreams Along the Misty Morass... The sun is a falling star as the moon is about to be a rising one .......and the sky burns as thousand torches under the roof of the ancient castle.......
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Unborn Woods in Doom Born as an ecstasy of black inborn with minds of depressing fate lost in the shadow of the twilight attracted by spite of sinister calm the lurid manifestation of the black a ground untouched by moonshine confront my steps at the path of infinity the atmosphere of lurid blackness fills the mind as a lust of the promised grace, the winds blow cold in my face stare towards the silent lakelet to the forest of the unknown shades These shades brought by the winds of lust leaded by their sins as a hall of gathering souls with a performance of sins within ......Unborn Woods in Doom...... Created in the birth of ages when the holy book had unformed pages where the soul of a man is nothing but a shade which is next to fade as a lust of the promised life, the winds blow cold in my face These shades brought by the winds of lust leaded by their sins ded by their sins as a hall of gathering souls with a performance of sins within ......Unborn Woods in Doom...... Confront my steps at the path of infinity the atmosphere of lurid blackness fills the mind as a lust of the promised grace, the winds blow cold in my face These shades brought by the winds of lust leaded by their sins as a hall of gathering souls with a performance of sins within Knowing that life is about to defy the sun of tomorrow shall never open it's eye
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Following the Growls Carving the ground with a stake of darkness impales the blackness with a torch of sins follow the deep and sadful growls along the path branches for years have hidden And a ground where thorns look lovely in spite of the weaving flowers of sin listen to the growls disappear into the woods to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings listen to the owles flying behind to the years when truth the sins will find I chant ancient rhymes, behind trees in the shade of the light Along the blood-rushing river I walk through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled Point out the eyes of agony with the hate From this side of the river, on my golden path Following the Growls...... carry the leaves of my withered soul as I follow these growls and still will to the millennium when stones turn to ashes And a ground where thorns look lovely in spite of the weaving flowers of sin listen to the growls disappear into the woods to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings Along the blood-rushing river I walk through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled Point out the eyes of agony with the hate From this side of the river, on my golden path Following the Growls...... carry the leaves of my withered soul as I follow these growls and still will to the millennium when stones turn to ashes When the solstice perform on the sky the sun soon dead leaves applaud with joy until the autumn and when the thorns perform
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Instrumental
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
The Hate From Miasma Storms A shield held by a broken arm and the other one shivering upon a stone In the forest of a no-gleaming day they try to avoid the soon dancing sky with all friends invited to join the violent rage When the stones of fire crush into forest deep I see blood and souls behind dreadly weep against the storm the branches have grown but the owles have left, a greed for golden throne a finger carving the soil of stone to see the ashes beyond and blood so cold The Hate from Miasma Storms A sword held by a fallen arm and the other one shivering upon a stone In the forest of a no-gleaming day they try to avoid the soon dancing sky with all friends invited to join the violent rage A pale and spooky moon claim to behold, the blood-stolen hands, never to fold against the storm the branches have grown but the owles have left, a greed for golden throne a finger carving the soil of stone to see the ashes beyond and blood so cold The Hate from Miasma Storms
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Carved by Raven Claws Behind trees the spirits hide their souls when they at night join shades for a ride with the winds to hunt traces of the once-blood dried souls which thorns the flowers in folden hands and count the countless victims that fade into the dance of shades, among trees When the flames reach the spectral frontier nor the loss of darkness bring forth the light to avoid the sight of this throne of night lay down to wait for the kings to crawl and to stear in the air where the owles fly away where the emperors of night conquer the blackened sky And like flowers fold out their sharp claws get enshrined sharp as nails of a witch, they thorn my face like a blaze To escape the dawn and to hunt the sunset the ravens fly above in a circle of joining mist as we once enthroned new kings with a curse ......Carved by Raven Claws...... After the battle from dusk to dawn the science of ancient books are used to heal and not to deny the truth, and in the front of a king shall kneel When the flames reach the spectral frontier nor the loss of darkness bring forth the light to avoid the sight of this throne of night lay down to wait for the kings to crawl and to stear in the air where the owles fly away where the emperors of night conquer the blackened sky To escape the dawn and to hunt the sunset the ravens fly above in a circle of joining mist as we once enthroned new kings with a curse ......Carved by Raven Claws...... And like flowers fold out their sharp claws get enshrined ......sharp as nails of a witch......
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
A Glade of Ingrown Blood As the lord of the immortal throne lift his hand to the symbolic crown spirits called back to the forests to find the sorrows behind mountains hidden When the past follows the path of glory I wander in the coldest part of forest where only the frost seems to care, not the fear as I stand under the tree-folden gate consuming this glade to late once blood was here to be spilled and the veins of the soil got filled view from the past carved in the stones pointing ahead where the spirits walk alone As the owles got thrown down by stones an arrow stops the heart of a soul behind the curtain of no light they search for their beloved, once eaten by the wolves ......A Glade of Ingrown Blood...... As I hatch the stake to the ground to see if the blood still remains I see the eyes of sadful destiny comes through to recreate the souls of past the believers of an ancient way of life will again lit their torches in the end cave to join the dark of dreamers millenium souls to find the sorrow behind the mountains hidden As the owles got thrown down by stones an arrow stops the heart of a soul behind the curtain of no light they search for their beloved, once eaten by the wolves ......A Glade of Ingrown Blood......
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026
Forlorn As a Mist of Grief The cold breeze strokes the soil joined by mist pursued by rain blows as a call of the ancient wisdom mist filled with tears of ages so old from the days when the flowers grew My courage disappear of what mind creates spirits walk by my side, touching my hands lead me onward, the direction of grief to the forsaken, a soul covered by misty veil behold, the mourning faces with scars so deep, shine so pale Mist filled with tears of ages so old from the days when the flowers grew With stakes in their hands a symbol of what used to be forlorn in the shade of the so called reality ......Forlorn As a Mist of Grief...... Their silent movements perform as flames the gathering of these souls which the fullmoon claims Brings the shades together as a mist of grief fills the space between the carved trunks the columns of the everlasting thatch hold the souls who perform as shades beyond mist reaching hands out searching for something to grip as eternal sleep of death out of their hands will slip With stakes in their hands a symbol of what used to be forlorn in the shade of the so called reality ......Forlorn As a Mist of Grief...... Their sins in life brought them within these fears never to see the light, it will never be in their sight comes toward me, stands so spectral even paler winds blow from behind, their children they will find
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026