Celtic Sorrow Songtext
von Olde Throne

Never ends
The tales of loss
Always still
Death is near

Kingdoms grow
Then fall to dust
Sweeping snow
Beats on stone

And still it holds
The endless sorrow

I lie in wait
For the pain to end
I scour the fields
Where my kin lay dead


I watch the stars
And see them fade
I roam the forest
And speak with ghosts

How Celts have suffered
And known no less
In the black of night
Even sirens cry

In the halls of kings
Our heroes rest
Upon shadowed lands
The old ones roam

And still it holds
Thе promise of death

And all they know
Cеltic sorrow