The sun is fading into black The night dictates my way to feel Cloaked by history's dusty gown Old myths appear to me so real From the ruins, ancient shadows crawl to greet the dawning day Never heard of, never noticed, the sunlight soon wipes them away Out of gloomy, haunted keeps tales were told, but never heard Stories of forgotten times, but no-one wants to read these words Fairy-tales of merry dances, 'neath the silver full moon's face Nothing now remains, but memories of the glorious Pagan days The Earth Mother's sucklings starving on her wrinkled bosom lie A crone in ragged mourning gown, waiting for her time to die Children of the mighty ash-tree, world-encircling Yggdrasil Everlasting leaves have withered, ageless wood has ceased to be Sun-God Lug, thy rays were burning - say, which raincloud covered thee? Are thy warriors really beaten by those who love their enemies? The Horned Hunter sounds the bugle for all heathens' funeral march As they pass in chains, with heads bowed under Christ's triumphal arch Subjects to the Pain-Emperor, servants to the thorn-crowned king Oppressed 'neath the Usurper's throne in eternal suffering An Anthem to those Who have been nailed to the Cross And left there for aeons forgotten