Up There On The Mountain, Above All Fire,

The Fields Down There And The Ravine Below

Where The Elements Feast In Reckless Desire



A Raven Is Seated

Where The Sun Cannot Reach,

Only Teriffic Storms Prevail

In A Thunderin' Havoc They Ruthlessly Roar



My Heart It Beats The Pulse Of Ancient Times

The Countless Rythem, The Rattling Stones

My Weapon Cleanse The Filth Of All Bones



Tender Are The Havens

Wich Remain On The Open Plains

The Shadow Crawls

Upon The Resort Of The Remnaints

Even Toward The Hills Lie Shattered Shields



The Winter It Hunts All Their Hearts In Fear

And The River Drifts With The Resolution Of Thunder



Infernal Are The Storms In Wich Our Shelter Stand

Their Strongest Grip Of Fear, And Our Shelter Tear



Up There On The Mountain, Above All Fire,

The Fields Down There And The Ravine Below

He Beholds A Kingdom Of Grace, Savage Yet Fair