In filth ridden rags, sore and in chains

No longer a servant of crosses and tales

He saw for the first time through

All of his fears and pains



As all the ships sailed into the fjord

Walls of stone that reach for the moon

In prayers he begged

"Father and Lord"



Soon they arrived and no prayer was heard

Whips lashed at his back as he fell into the sand

In his prayers he screamed

"Father and lord, bless me with your ward"



In tears he rejected the Father and Son

He was now made a slave and his freedom

Was gone

Ridden with hunger and threatened by sword

Brought to a chamber to meet his newfound lord

Wise man made of stone

Recited the words that the slave swore that day



Hardship and pain

A priest made slave

And lost his faith



"To you I surrender my life and skill

My hopes and dreams shall be under your will

Your word is my law and to break it means to

Bestow myself tenfolds the shame I caused you"



So it took place so long ago

A priest made slave, now knee-deep in snow

Twisted and fixated in the frozen mud

He swore a last curse while coughing up blood



"I curse you in hatred from my broken bones

Downfall, fire, curse you, I curse you"