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U S A |
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Schilling Peter |
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4 |
At the highest point I stood,
awaiting winters disciples
By the time of the fullmoon
I met the wind
Like a coat it swep over me,
the northern wind
It took me where no man had been,
to the lands of christian sin
Over icy lands we rode
I saw the seeds we had sown
Through bloodred skies we marched
Leaving our mark
I truly rode the infernal forces,
now one of them was mine
One of four secured
the rest I'll rule in time
A travel in ancient times,
I rode the icewinds
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