The Mourning

I kneel down and pray,
my sword by my side.
Beyond a waiting field,
the night begins to fade.
The time of fate is near,
first sun hits my hair.
A wind of fortune
stir up my eyes.
The mighty hill I stand
soon will be soaked by

Blood of fallen man.
The mourning pales the victory.

But till now no-one reels
and the hearts are filled with pride.
Rise your weapons high,
unleash the storm of wrath.

Ride on army, into your death.
Glory for the brave,
heroic deeds will remain.
Ride on, no mercy for the weak.
Split their bones
and scatter their heads.

Blood of fallen man.
The mourning pales the victory.

But till now no-one reels
and the hearts are filled with pride.
Rise your weapons high,
unleash the storm of wrath.

Wrath of God,
punishing those who don't believe.