Agoriono Ognem - Son of the wolves | Текст песни

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• Agoriono Ognem
• Son of the wolves

Remember that night
Coated in flames
She glanced my inner moaning
Sucking my taste
Into her mouth.

Twisted bottom of my skin
Ropes and deadly fever
Prancing weeps on the ground
Seven-inch blood flow

That's from my chest.

I've waited deep beneath
And a tombstone
Sipping my life-waste
Whispers of my man-name with a witch.

Twelve buffalo riders in the dark
Filling the circle said
"Rise up from your grave
You Son of the Wolves"

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