In the earliest of ancient times in a land much like our own
Where the leaves burst forth with
Color in golden light
In this time of peace and prosperity with our farmlands rich in grain
A black shape splits wide the open sky
And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread
And the cresting of the horn peaks the sky
And the whispers gather in my head
Tattered broken and bloody a woman I happened upon
A priestess of the light on death's horizons
In a cabin alone on the hill around this woman we gather and pray
When the air freezes in its place
And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread
While this priestess of light grows cold and
Draws out a feigning breath
Marking her death
Enshrouded in pall upon the pyre
She arose with life amidst the fire
And her screams became the shrieking winds
And from the flames she set upon the coven
She ripped out the throats of mothers
And the eyes of the young long carved
And the men so brutally profaned
Ravished as if only for amusement
Blood-matron so grim and so foul
The daughter of purest blood
Imprecating abominations
The scourge of undeath wrought the lands
And never before so cruelly mocked
The realms of mortal men
And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread
For I know of a new horror that walks upon frozen shores