Songtext von From The Northern Wallachian Forest. Tyranny Returns

Harness the black steed... Aye, my liege May the night and fog be my veil As I carry the word to the forest citadel That the lord on exile may arise The fullmon stained crimson over the realm Traces of terror, impaled greet from villages, hills Shade of the grey castle, like shroud of fear, the folk benumbed Tales hover of morbid godless rites, heretic acts The tyrant holds the kingdom With iron embrace Still holds sword and shield Against outlandish thread The folk's grief becomes wrath, confederacy grows Unawared the grim lord made the realm an unbroken stronghold The greedy lords from the south dare not cross the bounds They crave to behold the tyrant fall And stir up the flame of insurgence For the blind crowd own destruction A requiem for northern Wallachia The threads of betrayal extend Messengers tramp in the woods Town alleys, the evening whispers The lord on exile awaits At last the signals resounded Messages delivered, blaze aroused Many fell to banish the fierce lord And pyres of retribution gleam Among choirs of rejoice And content gaze from the south Among thunder of forges and kettle drums Heralding the war... Forgotten are the wounds set by foreign swords When own stakes and gallows grow The price of throwing chains may be the shield's decay One day the tyrant summoned will return in glory...