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Don’t cry my beldam

Your lost son must go

I take your song with me

Your tears and your woe

So I’m drawn to the world

That’s neither strange nor home

And crave for tomorrow

And the paths that I’ll roam

I wander where stars fell

And sleep where they die

I dream where the norns sings

And where wise cranes fly

In depths of the oceans

My cursed name I hide

That no one may find it

And no woe betide

I see my grandam

That worried tears shed

Feel her withered hands

That laid on my head

I still hear her old voice

And the ol’russian song

That she sung to my heart

And I carried along

I harken to far cries

The tongue of despair

The language of sinners

All humans shall err!

I howl with the archwolves

In silvery night

The aegis of the north star

Sets our fate alight

Ah, linger on now

Oh’ thou art so fair

Shalt purify my soul

In northern lights glare

Nero once burned down

What had to rebuild

And buried in madness

The ruins of guilt

We might burn our life path

And leave all behind

But what makes us sinners

Will stay in our mind

Into the blistering wilderness, the man now walks alone. A forsaken man without a country, without a hope; his soul in turmoil like the hot winds and raging sands. He is driven forward, always forward, by a god unknown, toward a land unseen…

The essence of life

Means “if”, as we know

This wisdom may decide

If we rule or bow below

I’ll tear off the Cain’s mark

And drink from a sylph

At war with the world now

At war with myself

Into the molten wilderness of sin where granite sentinels stand as towers of living death to bar his way. Each night brings the black embrace of loneliness. In the mocking whisper of the wind, he hears the echoing voices of the dark. His tortured mind wondering if they call the memory of past triumphs or wail foreboding of disasters yet to come or whether the desert’s hot breath has melted his reason into madness...