8 full tracks - CD comes in digipak with booklet / lyrics - logo by Christophe Szpajdel - Lord of the Logos
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about
Blackened thrash from the Czech Republic
lyrics
The priest rises
Dons his robes
Blessed by holy decree
Dictating Christian rule
Collecting holy fee
His vicarage built of pine
Pious sight to behold
From his hill he preaches lies
His coffers filled with gold
In the town a gallows looms
The vicar’s own device
On it hang the pagan, poor
Their fate sealed by lies
Deyr fé
deyja frændr
deyr sjálfr it sama
ek veit einn
at aldri deyr
dómr um dauðan hvern
In the north the fires burn
Last rites paid to Othin
To the south the longboats sail
For gold and Christian ruin
fljúganda fleini
fallandi báru
ísi einnættum
ormi hringlegnum
brúðar beðmálum
eða brotnu sverði
bjarnar leiki
eða barni konungs
Your bible weighs not more
Than the hammer’s anvil
Christ’s words can stop no sword
Or your fear of evil
Helpless now to free yourselves
As the pagan axes strike
Weak shields split in two
Hear your women crying
Cower as your village burns
Hear the howling screams of war
Blood red the tide has turned
Waves churn with Christian gore
Drag the priest down from the hill
Shred his scalp with briars
Lash his back with studded belt
Below awaits the scaffold
Wrap the noose around his neck
As he has done to others
String him up on the hanging ground
Hear him cry and whimper
Strung up, on ground, unhallowed
Hung on your own gallows
Strung up, on ground, unhallowed
Hung on your own gallows
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