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...