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WALPURGISNIGHT
Holy fires burning on the fields, the sunset glow disappears when the moon is rising high.Sinister shadows passing by, that forest is alive, it is alive. The churchbell is striking midnight, a sorcerer is standing on the top of the mountain. He spreads his wings to fly away. Ignorance fills the lonely hearts with fear. You feel the fire burning hot. Witches meet every year. Clouds of mist are rising slowly, when the april ends, close to aprils end. Laughing witches, crying wolves, magic light on a hazy sky. Like a vision, spreading fright, in Brocken's forest dancing light. It is Walpurgisnight, Walpurgisnight. This mystic place where whispering voices
call, just like an arrow, straight through your heart. Stormwind blows
through the trees, like the night sky never seems to end. Laughing witches, crying wolves, magic light on a hazy sky. Like a vision, spreading fright, in Brocken's forest dancing light. it is Walpurgisnight, Walpurgisnight. On sacred ground they meet every year,
witches telling stories about featings they've done. All illusions of
violence people remember are a fairy tale of history, told from a fool,
who wanted to sentence this night. But this magic strength will live
forever... March 1993 |
