BELLS OF THE WEST
I hear invitation from west
West-wind brings beauty things to my head
I feel the escape from this burden
Today I see the sun is fallen
Countless graves keep silent
They don´t tell the truth
Flesh-yield been harvested by scythe
The vessel red kind comes to harbour
Passengers get onto deck
I hear bell tolls to me
I am one of those cold sailors
And the Harvester is my companion
Kentledge of empty souls
Chilly wind like a whisper
It´s knowledge of wavering ghosts
Grin Reaper, cruel Reaper
Jetsam in river of Death
Sing hymn for you
Countless graves keep silent
The flesh-yield is given on the boundary
Jetsam in the river of Death
Is singing hymn for you.
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Sgandalf