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A mix of color blend into a clear view
Rejoicing of heavenly splendor fills the people's heart
The dagger's thirst quenched
Green, Red, Black Warpaint shields their faces
The Executioner, a god's servant
Their skin tan
Their body's tough
Radiant fire, dying down against the harshness of the evening
Not a whisper escapes, not a voice is heard
Warm brick now lays cold
The priest looks out into the horizon
Blood oozing down his rough features, times of long
Strange creatures he sees, arriving in creatures of myth
"Pick up arms" he becons his people
A fight to keep the past
A fight to see the future
A dead panther lies in their path
God's son
An impossible battle
Their minds warping against the cold breeze
Flowers sway to and fro, smell of fire creeping upon them
Eyes closed, they walk into the abyss
Blood flows down these woods
Demon's blood