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Cult

de Berserk

A saying tells that offering your hand to your enemy
Is like giving meat to the wolf,
And to take it back you will have to bit as its
Pack of wolves too.
They are those, who come in peace,
Civilized ones from distant lands,
Who burn our lands with the cross
And destroy our identity, until nowadays.
Fight, fight with tooth and nails.
Defend, protect your own territory.
Crush, the yoke that oppresses you.
Lineage, lineage is what you have.
When my eyes are blood,
Hatred from the deepest.
Their condition doesn't matter,
Only their destruction or mine.
Once i dreamed that all stars were clans,
Free and united.
That the steel of ones, was the swords of the others,
And the wheat of the others was the food of those.
It was a part of the change,
A strange religion infected all.
My friends were my enemies.
Take swords and lances,
Invoking the ancient spirits,
Speak with them,
Blood rains in the fields.

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