Journey Through The Cold Moors Of Svarttjern

Ah, dance through the cold shadows of Pan
As tears fall from heaven
Once I had hold the rarest rose
But, that is now forgotten with time

Among the tree's I wandered
To feel the embrace of etemal eclipse
As my candle bums out
And we must make the myths

Dark is the moon at harvest
The nightly mist approaches
Through the forlorned marshes
Then darkness has now been achieved

Crush your earthly virtnes
As I stumbled through snow and frost
My feeble heart is longing for the wood
Where all dark cast a shadow

It's pale morrow landscape
Has now risen through the bleak night
Over the moors and mountains
Flies the hunting ravens searching

Dance through the cold shadows of Pan
As tears fall from heaven
Then, once I had hold the rarest rose

Frozen is my pagan heart
And once again the dawn is here
Hear the sound of silence
In these trees
Are my gallows