---

In my forest cold

In my lair of oak

I call on the will of ancients

Gods of nature and entropy

Crush the human spirit ‘neath your mighty roots

Cleanse the world of humanity

In my wooden temple

Where the light of Jehovah shines not

I behold my crest of swords

A sigil that spits in the face of God

I tread not on the path of holy prayer

At the heart of  nature I shall dwell

I reach for isolation

You’re still reaching for a personal hell

Entities of enchanted woods

Deities of olden ways

I am your loyal priest

Pagan blasphemer

My heart is an oaken shield

Defeating the poison arrows of your meaningless faith

I call upon the spirit of the wind

To erode your God like a castle in sand

For I was born of night

As a guardian of wrath

Tomorrow never comes for you

A new day will not dawn

Forever I’ll stay true

And forever bare the flame

And ever long reside…

In my wooden temple

In my wooden temple

In my wooden temple

In my wooden temple