Salt water fills the wounds of time Grey Palisades fade into endless fucking, pure soul-sucking night Born of thunder, wind and rain Vultures on jagged wings usurp the kings, and call upon my name Face your future The needle, noose or knife Or take the flame, and heed the call Kinchyle We crawl out from our wretched tombs Kinchyle Under a cursed, grieving Moon Kinchyle A face of green, it paints the sky Kinchyle Goatkraft and granite, we will rise Satan, O’ Satan, be my guide Sin after sin, a devil’s grin appears within the raging tides Wander the winding left-hand path Ghosts from the gallows laughing - everlasting remnants of the past Face your future The needle, noose or knife Or take the flame, and heed the call Kinchyle We crawl out from our wretched tombs Kinchyle Under a cursed, grieving Moon Kinchyle A face of green, it paints the sky Kinchyle Goatkraft and granite, we will rise Silent, the formless deceiver Weaving a blanket of fog Caught in a storm beneath ragged boughs Kindle the will of the dreamers March o’er silver stone Off in the distance, the black dog howls Graves mountain high Faith in the lies of idols Gaze into sunken eyes Fate drags me through the marshes Through the northern darkness Bathe me in the ashes of the dead Kinchyle We crawl out from our wretched tombs Kinchyle Under a cursed, grieving Moon Kinchyle A face of green, it paints the sky Kinchyle Goatkraft and granite, we will rise Kinchyle