Hope. Strength. Change. Progress.
As one god sinks down drowning,
Another's dream begins flowering.
Wakes us up, sets some free,
A weightless soul, is ecstacy.
Sun is warm on weak skin,
The soul rejuvinates from within.
Senses feed from the atmosphere,
For one small moment it all becomes clear.
King and peasant embrace on the plane,
The wise and weak, the foolish and brave.
As ash powders down, and blood dries away,
Winds sail the soul, tomorrow is a new day.
Praise be sung,
To Father Moon and Mother Sun,
Realise our heathen spirit,
Realise that we are one.
© Copyright 2016 Bolt Thrower. All rights reserved.
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