Carving the ground with a stake of darkness
impales the blackness with a torch of sins
follow the deep and sadful growls
along the path branches for years have hidden
And a ground where thorns look lovely
in spite of the weaving flowers of sin
listen to the growls disappear into the woods
to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings
listen to the owles flying behind
to the years when truth the sins will find
I chant ancient rhymes,
behind trees in the shade of the light
Along the blood-rushing river I walk
through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled
Point out the eyes of agony with the hate
From this side of the river, on my golden path
Following the Growls......
carry the leaves of my withered soul
as I follow these growls and still will
to the millennium when stones turn to ashes
And a ground where thorns look lovely
in spite of the weaving flowers of sin
listen to the growls disappear into the woods
to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings
Along the blood-rushing river I walk
through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled
Point out the eyes of agony with the hate
From this side of the river, on my golden path
Following the Growls......
carry the leaves of my withered soul
as I follow these growls and still will
to the millennium when stones turn to ashes
When the solstice perform on the sky
the sun soon dead leaves applaud with joy
until the autumn and when the thorns perform
impales the blackness with a torch of sins
follow the deep and sadful growls
along the path branches for years have hidden
And a ground where thorns look lovely
in spite of the weaving flowers of sin
listen to the growls disappear into the woods
to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings
listen to the owles flying behind
to the years when truth the sins will find
I chant ancient rhymes,
behind trees in the shade of the light
Along the blood-rushing river I walk
through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled
Point out the eyes of agony with the hate
From this side of the river, on my golden path
Following the Growls......
carry the leaves of my withered soul
as I follow these growls and still will
to the millennium when stones turn to ashes
And a ground where thorns look lovely
in spite of the weaving flowers of sin
listen to the growls disappear into the woods
to end in the chasm where the chorus of the wind sings
Along the blood-rushing river I walk
through the breezful forest, my stormy lungs get filled
Point out the eyes of agony with the hate
From this side of the river, on my golden path
Following the Growls......
carry the leaves of my withered soul
as I follow these growls and still will
to the millennium when stones turn to ashes
When the solstice perform on the sky
the sun soon dead leaves applaud with joy
until the autumn and when the thorns perform