Lletres:
Old Mans Child The Old Man S Child

gods of the north, blow your wind upon my flesh, reach me your immortal force. I dance through the winter storms, all through a lifetime as man, marching

I'm pressed clean Detroit's Angel, I even got red wings I'm headed to the ball, me and three prom queens my life's prom night and guess who's the Prom

it on the weak Several miles of death's formation They march towards his grace To the cliffs and the abyss of the damned The loss of man, and fall of

Beyond the black of the netherworld lies a kingdom untouched created by the sins of man... and the evil that man do. Walls painted with the color of

means I'mma have to borrow some money] Let's fly a kite [Let's burn the generals] Let's sell lemonade [Let's drink] Let's poke a hole inside the tugboat

shines bright Baby's high as a kite Today her name is pretty, but she ain't a pretty sight Same old stilletos and dodgy looking fellows Same old whistles Same old

beneath what's never been found The portal's thunder roars from beyond And calls on evil to kill the weak In orbit through hell's realm Like clouds drifting

In the mist of the morning light's shadows Triumphant, he stands battered and proud In the dark of the morning light's shades The meadow is red, and the

gar imot sorgenes strommer Vi kriger om makt og alt som skal bli Om aere og dod vi alle mann drommer Jorden er var blodet skal stromme Ferden mot fienden's