Those Pockets Are People

de Týr

In the woods of the fallen
Dead leaves lie upon the snow
Elder oaths are long forgotten
And their meaning etched in stone

What is forgot shall be remembered
What is honour shall rise again
The fires forged ancestral spirit
Eternal flame within our kin

Scribed in circles sealed forever
Runic signs of ancient ken
For those in the distant future
In whose life-blood flows the same

Más canciones de Týr