There’s No Wine Like The Bloods Crimson – Aeternus

Bloodred fields
The sun in its last breath
Providing the shadows of the trees
A moment to dance before death
Still – Their makers dance
In the cold breeze
That gives to me the stench

Of blood not yet cold
And torn dead flesh

I raise my hammer of war
To call my vulture
Up high it flues from the fields
From its kingdom it sees
The most wonderful sights
Dead men – Wounded worms
The remains of a conquered land
My slaughtery and victory

My hammer shall not yet rest
From the north I hear
Hordes of young men
How unaware they are of their peoples
Angel of death
Their blood shall paint my armour
As I slay them all brutally

Down the hill they ride
I greet them with my warcry
As I slam my hammer into the grown
Come to me mortals


Lyric There’s No Wine Like The Bloods Crimson – Aeternus