Omen — Hellsaw

Once we wanderes through plains Bleak their sight

Once we wanderes through mires Enigmatic what they hold

In this land a wind was blowing Fresh and full of power We believed in giving and taking Not only did we honour, we lived

Fresh meadows, covered the new Ripe crops were taken with respect Life

Now we wander through plains Barren their sight

Now we wander through mires Hard as stone

Lost seems to be the understanding That we forgot - meaningless More than just a work Less than a chapter of truth

The wind will put us in our place

Cold, repulsion - death