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Down from the mountain, cries of an headless love, high above

Cold seems to me your kiss from the ocean deep, in my sleep

I see you go south on the evening tide, end your fight

Futile attempts, you can't change the way, of our day and age of heathen and Hel

"I've been living here from when I was born

And my heathen kin it was that found and then populated this land

Who is then this man who demands my scat

He whose mighty ancestors drove mine out of Norway to seek new lands

Which are slipping through my hands

Hold they nothing more divine

Than the property of land

Set the thing here and then

Line my booth with cloth, black as ravens wings

See to that these men are dealt as those mighty kings men that came before

Old and weak I am, a pain behind my eyes

Here in darkness with my silver bags, let them come in and take what's mine

All the islands should be mine

But we're running out of time

Wield the axe and make them mine

I will rule within my time

Here in pain

Here in darkness

Here in decadence

Lies my land like a rune that's written by the gods upon the

Ocean deep, so it reads, thou shalt not enslave my kin, I

Swear this oath, I'll keep my faith and

I'll keep my

Kin from all harm, raise the song to the mountains majesty for thee"

Now the millenium has gone

And the sad and weary tales

Of the subsequent events

Are what's left of greater times

The millenium has gone

And the sad and weary tales

Of the subsequent events

Are what's left of greater times

Týr - The Rune – текст


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