True North

Time is running out.
Death in the East.

Fire in the South.

Some great rough beast's,

rapacious, grinning mouth,
agape. Preparing for the feast.

While many wander West,

finding Nihil.
Gaunt, depressed,
and deathly ill.
Our true North alone is blessed.

Secluded behind icy hills,

Beyond all sight
we skip and play,
with wrong and right.
Forsake the day
in sheer delight.
On bloody beds of thorns we lay.

Embrace the cold,

eternal night.

We fled the fold and your control.
A guiding light

burns in our soul;
To ever struggle, ever fight.