This man, once a warrior of great stature
I cannot leave him behind
So I carefully lay him on the back of my horse

And then I notice the royal emblem

With this knowledge I return, to the small wooden church
So he might be given, the proper burial he deserves

Then my senses pick up the stench of burning flesh
I see a yellow glare ahead
Screams that slowly fade away
A nightmare has unfolded itself

This horror can't be a coincidence

And thus it burns, the church where
I sheltered for the hail, the doors seem locked
The saints, whose songs soothed me,
were killed by the blazing fire

(faelfilth@hotmail.com)