Going through the forest
of ancient times
the sacred place of spirits and harmony
we feel a strange feeling
of tranquillity
but also that someone is watching
mother earth is mad
were here without permission
she grants us a curse of bad luck
there is only one way
to get her to forgive
a sacrifice has to be made
We choose 100 soldiers
the weakest among us will die
without any hesitation
the spears go through their hearts
our mother earth grants her approval
we continue onwards
with quilt washing right over our heads
we pray for our fallen soldiers
With our forces weakened we march forward
with a resolve non existent
our spirits are broken and men are in fear
we have fallen before the battle
if this continues were already dead
we might as well kill ourselves
we have to do something before this ends
were changing the course to Bestia
The wolfs of the wild are waiting
the shadows of the forest
the dangerous assassins of the night
and hunters of the day
with silent steps we approach
the border to Bestia
with men being on guard we enter
there is no turning back now