Marching of the Hordes

On the rise of a new dawning

I gaze upon a pagan mass

Who cry in tones of victory and hail their gods in the skies

Their shields and armor are glittering under the heat of a heathen sun

Their hearts face with the pride to follow their father long gone

The blades of their weapon are bloody wet with flesh christian blood

Storming through the battlefields for the pantheon of their god

They ride their steeds to new frontiers forever more in the night...

Ah... Marching of the hordes...

Against a sky tinted crimson red

Over bloodsoaked meadows

Through the ashes of the shamanic flames

From the Anatolia shadows