Nokturnal Mortum The Funeral Winds Born In Oriana
the blood is in wolf footprint the hunter has won his hunger his howling is heard in the night among the mist and the moonlight the sound of the huge trembita is echoed away from the carpathians we announce the funerals to the still alive world coming from the boreal land we won many nations we are everywhere, we are the children of silver now we are trumping to have the last victory the cries of ravens the howling of wolves we are the keepers of the fire which will burn down the heavens the trumpets are singing and with the rhythm of the drums we are stepping down on this world it was sold to the sly nation it will die together with them only the ravens flying in the sky can see all of us they are the only ones to see our army our fighting spirit and faces of hatred in the ancient land of oriana we will gather together again and our power has multiplied into thousand we are ready to fight against judeo christianity! we have the silver moon power in our hands we have the rage of millions of fire in our eyes we have the demons' hatred in our hearts we have the pain of our ancient fathers in our souls
