Tendons and muscles of steel.
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And the blaze of lightning in its eyes.
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White as the snow on the hills.
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And it's reins, that I hold, they are mine.
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This stallion and sword in exchange
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for my heart and both of my eyes.
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The ravens of swift wings my sight
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Surely now victory must be mine.
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Eight legged stallion of mine.
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Run with the speed of the winds.
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Eight legged stallion I stride.
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Run as if you carried wings.
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I paint thee with the blood from my veins
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Images of origin long lost.
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I adorn your white mane and tail
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With the stars that fell from the sky.
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A glade in the Eternal deep dark Woods...
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Midnight hours...
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["Sitting by his campfire alone one night, the young man is approached by]
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[the Woodwoman. She asks him to follow her to her den where she promises him]
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[magic for the price of his young heart. Eager to win the upcoming duel, he]
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[entrusts his heart into her wooden hands for the ability to survive every]
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[cut or slit by his adversary.]
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[And thus he had met the Woodwoman..."]
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The Stallion (in album Blood On Ice)
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| Bathory |
