Marching Of The Hordes

On the rise of a new dawning I gaze upon a pagan mass Who cry in tones of victory and hail their gods in the skies Their shields and armor are glittering under the heat of a heathen sun Their hearts face with the pride to follow their father long gone The blades of their weapon are bloody wet with flesh christian blood Storming through the battlefields for the pantheon of their god They ride their steeds to new frontiers forever more in the night... Ah... Marching of the hordes... Against a sky tinted crimson red Over bloodsoaked meadows Through the ashes of the shamanic flames From the Anatolia shadows