Wolfskrone - The Hunt
текст песни

A frosty wind bites the lungs
vaporizing air implies the break in weather
Abundance of nutriment lies in the past
only the strongest will survive the frost.

Antlers are scattered around
directing the path towards supper

In anticipation of the chaser
the herd's trembling
The hunters accelerate their pace

The eternal cycle has started again
with no avail and no end

hastening in on their inevitable catch
smelling the fear of finitude

The primal instinct of fright
overcasts the voice of reasoning
the majestic appearance falls
like a curtain for nature's stage

An inner instinct calls for reassurance
As the shape of the soil
unfolds its philosophy