Salt water fills the wounds of time
Grey Palisades fade into endless fucking, pure soul-sucking night
Born of thunder, wind and rain
Vultures on jagged wings usurp the kings, and call upon my name

Face your future
The needle, noose or knife
Or take the flame, and heed the call

Kinchyle
We crawl out from our wretched tombs
Kinchyle
Under a cursed, grieving Moon
Kinchyle
A face of green, it paints the sky
Kinchyle
Goatkraft and granite, we will rise

Satan, O’ Satan, be my guide
Sin after sin, a devil’s grin appears within the raging tides
Wander the winding left-hand path
Ghosts from the gallows laughing - everlasting remnants of the past

Face your future
The needle, noose or knife
Or take the flame, and heed the call

Kinchyle
We crawl out from our wretched tombs
Kinchyle
Under a cursed, grieving Moon
Kinchyle
A face of green, it paints the sky
Kinchyle
Goatkraft and granite, we will rise

Silent, the formless deceiver
Weaving a blanket of fog
Caught in a storm beneath ragged boughs

Kindle the will of the dreamers
March o’er silver stone
Off in the distance, the black dog howls
Graves mountain high
Faith in the lies of idols
Gaze into sunken eyes
Fate drags me through the marshes
Through the northern darkness
Bathe me in the ashes of the dead

Kinchyle
We crawl out from our wretched tombs
Kinchyle
Under a cursed, grieving Moon
Kinchyle
A face of green, it paints the sky
Kinchyle
Goatkraft and granite, we will rise

Kinchyle