The drum is my steed, The wind my wings The mind of an eagle is my soul... and my will is of frozen soil
Far in the edge of night and twilight is a tree on which branches lies the souls of unborn And ravens the bringers of light are guiding them into oblivion
My eyes didn`t see I didn`t speak when I was born far north embraced by tundra My forter said I bore the marks I was going to be his successor
I watched my ancestors to bleed themselves to attain the utter conciousness To find the long-gone spirit to kill to ride the night again...
When the dusk comes I feel myself alive when the last rays of the sun have died Begun my ride through the darkest of nights as my will becomes one with the wolves...
...I feel the desire to haunt... ...I feel the desire to kill...
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