Lonely Wolfe

“Lonely wolfes are howling to the moon

A shining fire burns in the night

And a man prepares his horse for war

Betrayed by his friends, banned by his tribe

They tortured him to die but his rage will come to them”

His mind is fulfilled with hate, his sword is like a silverlight

Death and pain to those who had betrayed him

With a final prayer to his gods he rides to his last battle

To find his fate named revenge to his tribe

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

In a black night he came like a demon to his tribe

Killed those who had banned him to the desert

Ripping flesh and bones, drinking enemies blood

Screaming in the air, but he is laughing

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins

(Death) is his aim, (rage) is his life

His black blood streams through fired veins, oh!

His black blood streams through fired veins

...

(Death! Hate!)

(...)