[Lyrical magick: Proscriptor & Equitant, Musick: Shaftiel & Equitant]
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From an empty house...
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In take-flight, the grey hawks verged upon a sunless sky
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Wild, whistling winds carried them sorely, and sailed them bristly in the same shady sky.
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In take-ground, branded the mark of hall and heave; their martyrs never left
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2000 years, 2000 urn-burials, 2000 lies have now been erased.
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[Chorus:]
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"We'll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
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We'll sound with horn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
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We've whittled the blades of Hallstattian swords!"
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In order to see such a legacy, fire burned with a past that turned;
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Anvils were forged at an early stage, molded as cats or iarn-leastair.
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Ioldanach has spied on this mistery, yet he's enkindled by the light
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With hues of argent lightning and ore of purem the salt grants them mastery and might.
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[Chorus:]
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"We'll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
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We'll sound with horn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
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We've whittled the blades of Hallstattian swords!"
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[Bridge:]
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Hallstatt
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An Salaan
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An Bas
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[Troid Warrior:]</i> "I see a battle; I feel the warp-spasm!"
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[Ioldanach:]</i> The poised warrior yowls with blood about his belt.
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[Troid Warrior:]</i> "Nothing shall draw my eyes away..."
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[Ioldanach:]</i> His heart stirs atrociously, now to think.
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[Troid Warrior:]</i> "I convey the names to the planes of Destiny!"
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[Ioldanach:]</i> The poised warrior seeks an ancient seat foe the Stone.
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[Troid Warrior:]</i> "Wild, whistling winds still laugh at my howls!"
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[Ioldanach:]</i> These acts of tale-telling dilate him to hate.
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Hallstatt
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An Salaan
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An Bas
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[Pre-Avouchment of Parable:]
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The young ones of Hallstatt, and the sky
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Silver-ilked spears have been whetted
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Vast hilts and sheeny torques of gold;
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Crafted from vanquished legacies.
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Hallstatt
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An Salaan
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An Bas
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[Avouchment of Parable:]
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"Spirit of horsemen and spirit of iron age acclaim
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The fame for 2000 crypts at Hallstatt!"
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[Solo(s): Shaftiel]
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To an empty home.
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In take-flight, the grey hawks verged upon a sunless sky
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Wild, whistling winds carried them sorely, and sailed them
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bristly in the same shady sky.
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In take-ground, branded the mark of hall and heave; their martyrs never left
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2000 years, 2000 urn-burials, 2000 lies have now been erased.
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"We'll kneel towards the foyer with our precious salz!
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We'll sound with horn, clash with wood and cleave with calls!
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We've whittled the blades of Hallstattian swords!"
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-----------------
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Hallstatt
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| Absu |
