The Gathering

six dead, three to go

Our footsteps in the snow, the blood that marks my hands
Dream of tales that I know as we’re marching to the promised land

From ruins of decayed earth, we came with the rising storm
Monuments of remaining hate in our dark and frozen hearts

Nine elements of light, six have felt our swords
Three get ready for the fight, in battle no place for words

The darkness will shine forever, the winter never ends
Controlling elements of black, the rotting stench is good

Bury the past
Await the new day
The world we lived