Instrumenty
Ensembles
Opera
Kompozytorzy
Wykonawcy

Teksty: Darkwoods My Betrothed. Autumn Roars Thunder. I Burn At The Stake.


I wake up in shivers of cold
On a chilly sunny morning of May
My eyes try to catch up with what is going on
They only recall the nights which in dungeons I laid

Chanting in a tongue unknown fills my ears
Odour of incenses... warmth of torchfires
Men wearing black hooded robes are closing me
Golden crosses glow as they light my pyre

"In the name of the holy trinity
We purify thy soul with these flames
And baptize you..."
"Never! You can burn me, bastards
But you can never take my faith
I spit on your cross and curse you
In the name of the spirits of my fathers!"

"We cursed you servants of the foreign god
Despisable betrayers of your people
I will never ever accept your faith
Rather I burn at the stake!"