The Song Of The Tomb

From the north to the south

From the east to the west

All that waits for me is the grave

I have been where my brothers lay fallen

And my kind are as slaves

Bloodied yet unbowed

I sing a song of the tomb

Of the cold and heathen earth

Of the Gods that await me

I raise a glass in your name

For when the sun rise again

To our deaths like condemned men

This is the twilight of the ages

And no man shall stand

I sing a song of the tomb

Of the cold and heathen earth

With virgin voice to poisoned womb

I call to the shadowed kind

To men of myth, etched in stone

Whose songs are heard no more

The women of the barren lands

This is your time

[Lyrics: A.A. Nemtheanga]

[Music: MacUilliam and Primordial]

["Our myths are steeped in blood and tragedy and the grim acceptance of fate. The difference between these myths and the lessons they teach us and the modern day are virtually non existant. A man's life, decided by the warmongers, by the blade of a knife, a bullet from a gun or a bomb is no different from the warmongers and warriors of legend. We write our own legends today, here and now, yet always with blood."]