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1. Wychwood

Mists linger on a frost filled dawn
sunlight glimmers on blade and thorn
grim, illumined but no not all
much remains in decay's dark thrall
Slow, certain the true demise
proving ground for all things that die
the wounds that whiten
the spikes that bind
the cords that tighten
the roots that bind
All in darkness is not corrupted
all that beckons cannot be trusted
beneath the sway of deepest night
dark woods awake far from mortal sight

'Through sodden ancient pathways
we tread to the home of witch-elms
and singing blades of liquid frost
dancing like lucid steam-beasts
that blow the breath
between the hawthorn stems'

'Await the signs of our fathers
The circle is closed
The doors to reality are closed
you, me, the gods, and the grinding of our steel
The boundary where ancient spectres rise
not in torment, but in eternal conquest'

Into the Wychwood!

2. The Droner In The Fog

At last upon the whale's road
On heathen tides
and winds that scream
Where potent murmers ride the haunted skies
and rune-wise prows eager for the shore

Beneath the ice-capped vaults of middle-earth
where sword wolves sail across infernal seas
By skill of sail, by force of oar,
by steel and sinew, raise the tide of gore!

Each fool's lament, a wasted breath
Our heroes leave a wake that bleeds
where mail clad axemen prowl perception's edge
In ragged mass, black ravens reap the wind

Ice and fire!

3. Whispers Of Gods

At times I have observed the world
while standing on the higher ground
while on the horizon
two crows pierce the dark veils of mist

From the gnashing waves upon the sea
to the lightest breeze that stirs the trees
in the churning air
I have heard the whispers of gods

4. The Hidden

Grim men in ages past
kept watch from these heights
Now only the wind
keeps this lonely vigil
The lines of the ramparts
still to be seen
their pride now tempered
by the passing of time
Weapons lay rusting
in forgotten places
The shields have rotted
these men are no more
None now remember
the burning of the gates
the shattered palisades
the heaps of carrion

Rain lashed gorse spikes
a blanket of elk-sedge
the seeds of protection
carried by storms
Too late for the wounded
who bled in the ditches
to be covered in elk-sedge
grim orphans of death
Pits of pride and war
beneath the footfalls
of weakling spectators
who knew us no more
Weapons lay rusting
in forgotten places
The shields have rotted
in heaps of carrion

5. Hillfort Ghoul

Who is this that strokes my cold face?
I'm here, beneath the sloping heather
Come...close your eyes
put your head against this earth
I'll tell you my story of death by invader's blade

A dragon from the south, red gold it shone
in the heat of Haerfestmonath
winding its way unto the fort of Wych
Some braced with a stake
we took our place on slingshot skyline
We children all knew the war song

I rained my stones at the tribes
and felt the battle inside
as elders slew, and fell at long range
I heard the gate crash and the swords clash
and the stab in my side, open wide
as I fell into the red and wet ditch
And I cried
for my father, my mother
my sisters, my brothers
and then the gods
Come with me...it's alright

6. Bones In The Ground

When this frail house of flesh
can no longer hold my spirit
if my enemies take me in war
or if fate leaves me prey
to the ravage of years
I ask this of you
this and no more

Place my bones in the ground
Let me face to the north
give me axe
give me shield
give me sword
As the crow reels in flight
and the teeth of death bite
raise a mound over me and my hoard

When the last drop is drained
when the mead hall runs dry
when the fire burns low on the hearth
as the hammers are crossed
on the midwinter frost
I will walk on the gods' starlit path

Dagfari Wartooth — Bass, Vocals
Sceot Acwealde — Drums, Guitars, Vocals

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