(lyrics by D Jole/music by G Schoemaker)
Red mists of the morning
Rise from the battleground
Red sun on the water,
Weeping without sound
Silent wind blows empty
On blackened rock and bone
Fields of grass are shining glass
The ravens softly moan
They're trying to
CHORUS
Wake the seven sleepers,
Deep within their cave
When the fire comes, burns everyone,
Who will dig your grave?
Wake the ancient huntsman,
Don't let dead dogs lie
Hunt with the red-eared hounds of hell,
Ride screaming through the sky
Children of the warriors,
World crumbling at their feet,
Can't drink the blackened water,
Can't eat the burning wheat
Men are out a-hunting
To win the dragon's claws,
But steel knives and empty lives
Can't save them from its jaws
Their screams will
CHORUS
Fields and hills lie barren,
Plows rusting on their sides
Mighty ships lie empty,
Rotting in the tide
Curtains flutter softly,
Like moths against a light
Women turn from cities burned
And vanish from our sight
They're going to
CHORUS