| Oakhelm - 3. As The Murder Flies
Enclaved in strongholds
Lightless
Broods a wraith not dead nor live
A restless spirit born of scorn
For which no salvation lies
[Curse 1]
Of molten anger lying still
Of burning bark to spite
Reclaim our stolen kingdom
Bring death to reclaim life
[Curse 2]
This human plague hath ridden
The wood of soul and light
A burden unforgiven
A sea of endless blight
Long ago a tyrant sieged the forest
Tearing holes both far and wide
Into this sylvan world of magick
Forever scarring the land and sky
[Curse 3]
Once taken thou shalt wither
Once touched by mother night
Existence will escape you all
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