Walknut - Grim Woods


Grim woods of extinct northern lands 
Where only spirits walk upon the overgrown paths 
Towards the sunsets over ancient labyrinths of stone 
And pagan monoliths are yet to pierce the skies 

Horned moon spills it's stellar grief 
Unto the silver mirrors of the crystall lakes 
Where titanic ruins dream their endless dreams 
Awaken ghosts of glorious past, of rise and downfall 

Grim woods stand as the hosts of old 
With rusty helmets and the broken spears against the sky 
The silent witnesses of countless ritual murders 
And evil sorcery is spilt among these winds 

Distant thickets echo with the ghastly screams 
From the cursed pagan altars of the tortured souls 
Old gates of wisdom closed, unreached 
Forgotten, sealed with keys of blood 

Grim woods are listless, cold as hearts of men 
The men that did forget their own roots 
The answers are known, yet none shall speak 
Where only spirits walk upon the overgrown paths

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