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Instrumental
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In darkness the hope of men was forged in steel
Courage, wisdom and wrath embraced the heart of pagan kings
Under raging storms they marched
Under the sign of ravens they wandered...
The whisper of arrows through the golden horizon
Dance of the swords consuming lives
The clash of the axes against wooden shields
Feeding the ravens across bloody battlefields
Bravery and hope opened new paths
Leading the will of Gods, the will of men
Narrative I:
The seeds were sowed for a hateful existence
Leaving behind a path of blood
Ascension and fall of ruthless empires
Immortal memories would cross long dark centuries
Haunting the present like ghosts in the fog
Flame of triumph, patiently forged the time
Narrative II:
With warchants and blood our history was written
Deeds of bravery marched to the hands of fate
As virtue of worthy men approaches once again
From ruins of the ancient dark ages
I feel the oceans raging
The wrath of the cold winds
The whisper of arrows through the golden horizon
Dance of the swords consuming lives
The clash of the axes against wooden shields
Feeding the ravens across bloody battlefields
In darkness the hope of men was forged in steel
Courage, wisdom and wrath embraced the heart of pagan kings
Under raging storms they marched
Under the sign of ravens they wandered...
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Dark horizons shone with terrifying sign…
hundreds of flaming arrows enlightened the sky
Behold the fear stamped in the eyes of enemies...
blood and tears ran down through frozen streams.
Runes were carved in stones
Eternalizing the deeds of our forefathers
Proud men sailed across the sea so vast…
bringing hateful memories from the past
Horns sound amongst the chants of war...
announcing the coming of battlelines ashore
Runes were carved in stones
Eternalizing the deeds of our forefathers
They have been written our history
They have been forged our sovereignty
Now raging winds caress the dead trees, singing the men’s fate
And through furious dark storms nature sheds its hate
They have been written our history
They have been forged our sovereignty
And so the heavens scream in rage, bringing the smell of death
From the primeval ancestral lands an ancient wrath claims for revenge
Songs in march for triumph still echoes in our way
The old sons of the wasted lands remain wielding pride and courage.
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An ancient strength reigns in my soul
Enchanting the inner landscapes of my thoughts
We hail our ancestors with pride
Raising our swords in homage for those who died.
I bring the fury of my forefathers, the purest knowledge of victorious generations.
Wandering through distant pathways
Towards the great mountains covered by the haze
Abreast with honour and triumph
Resistance transcend through my veins
I bring the bloody conquests of old domains, the most magnificent virtues of ages long forgotten.
My blood, my honour...
My rage, my pride.
My courage, my victory...
All are just only one in my glory.
Exalting old words of wisdom
Hearing the raging waves breaking upon the stones
Side by side with honour and triumph
We’ve followed paths far from our unworthy present.
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5. |
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Instrumental
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6. |
Forest of pagan memories
12:20
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Narrative I:
*As I wander to where once my ancestors rode
On a hidden path that time erased
It leads me to the ages of steel
Towards the dark glorious past
… And the golden rays of light shine in the morning mist
Sacred circles of stones covered by rotten leaves
Old scrolls and fragments of swords and shields
Rusty elms covered with slime and blood
The forest whisper… virtues and reason
This is my misty fortress… of pagan memories.
Narrative II:
**As I hear the ghostly chant of generations gone
Gathering the old spirits to sit around the fire
They sing songs about the bravery
To praise the victorious dead
... An austere voice echoes through green trees
Telling wonderful stories from a time long forgotten
When the men’s courage reflected against the shieldwall of enemies
When the dance of shining swords praised the strongest ones.
The forest whisper… virtues and reason
This is my misty fortress… of pagan memories.
An old war vision rises before my eyes
Riding towards our time… claiming in triumph
The deeds of our ancestors enchanting our existence
Guiding our journey… for generations to come.
My eyes behold silently a scene of rage and honour
Echoing in the purest air the sound of steel meeting steel
Narrative III:
***The crimson bloody skies above bring the end of day
…And so I return walking upon the ashes of thousands of funerals
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7. |
Crown of Fallen Heroes Mairiporã, Brazil
Forged amongst the mists of the autumn 2004, the band has started its journey as a one-man band, inspired by different
manifestations of primitive nature, also by the most pure devotion to the ancestral pagan civilizations.
The meaning about the name “COFH” refers to the nobility of those who died on the fields, fighting for worthy causes and protecting their cultures, beliefs and tradictions.
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Contact Crown of Fallen Heroes
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