| In the misty darkness of my dreams*
|
| I wander through the fields
|
| The fields of blood and agony
|
| Where so many had to yield
|
| Through all the ages
|
| Through all the struggle for life
|
| Against bondage, oppression
|
| For freedom and hope
|
| With the hopeless ideal to survive
|
| This is a tribute
|
| To all the heathens who died
|
| Tortured, enslaves and burnt
|
| To death by the servants of religious lies
|
| Religious lies
|
| I hear their mouning in my head
|
| The pain and misery
|
| Betrayed and slaughtered
|
| They were damned
|
| To this place without relief
|
| And all the slain theu took at me
|
| Eith widley opened eyes
|
| Their faces are distorted masks
|
| Congealed in silent cries
|
| Do not believe
|
| Do not obey to their priests
|
| Who want to control you
|
| And spit on your roots
|
| To justify their bloody deeds
|
| This is a tribute
|
| To all the heathens who died
|
| Tortured, enslaves and burnt
|
| To death
|
| By the servants of religious lies
|
| May their spirit rise again
|
| To enlighten me
|
| And to bring back the lores
|
| Got lost in dark centuries
|
| May their ghosts rise again
|
| Just to frighten those
|
| Who dare to convert innocence
|
| By force
|
| And their spirit
|
| Spirit shall rise again
|
| Haunt them — to take revenge
|
| Cleanse the world
|
| And then rebuilt
|
| The mighty heathen throne
|
| Cleanse the world
|
| And then rebuilt
|
| May their spirit rise again
|
| To enlighten me
|
| And to bring back the lores
|
| Got lost in dark centuries
|
| May their ghosts rise again
|
| Just to frighten those
|
| Who dare to convert innocence
|
| By force
|
| Do not believe
|
| Do not obey to their priests
|
| Who want to control you
|
| And spit on your roots
|
| To justify their bloody deeds
|
| This is a tribute
|
| To all the heathens who died
|
| Tortured, enslaves and burnt
|
| To death
|
| By the servants of religious lies
|
| May their spirit rise again
|
| And to bring back the lores |