I Trädens Sang
A net is now spun
So vast, spreaded, black
Coloured with the gleam of blood
Dipped in unholy juice
A song of birth, of beginning
Of desecrated brothers laughter
A song of sacrifice and the end of life
Of fire, pleaded in the land so weak
Yet there is a song I dont sing
Its wordplay I dont speak
Its words dont pass my mouth
Now hear the rhymes in the trees leaves
There we stand in silence,
May their mouths whisper...
