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Time of contempt

Approached us,

Under the crowns of hoary pines.

They came carrying frenetic

Age in the banners of the Flames.

Their swords and drunk eyes

Looked so blunt, awaking primal wrath.

Strike! They’re ready for final rest on wet moss.

Strike! Tendons will cry for dead

Falling on the injured earth.

Where the trees guard us…

Where the wolves bring death…

Those who live short lives

Should avoid these lands…

Woods tell us: “Reclaim!”.

Reclaim your past, your future

From the hands of strangers.

Time of contempt

Will bring us

To the days we dreamed so long.

Time of contempt

Will bring us

To the days we dreamed so long.