A Tale of Pagan Tongue

The sun descended to the ground
 Behind the mountains, in the sea
 A one-eyed man wanders sullen to the highest hill
 There he will survey over those surviving will
 The flaming shores are yet unseen
 In spite of dawn, the horizon sleeps
 The sea gleams with lethal cold
 Witness yourself here, alone yet bold
 The night is born, the christlings thorn
 The sun seems dead and somehow forlorn
 And the moon lurks above
 The beasts they howl her song
 Told to be unchained at the day of doom
 Their random laws, taught by the Gods
 Are to be redeemed when He sets sail
 There will forever be this ancient tounge
 Primal wisdom from natures own longue
 Count the shores of the utter coast
 And fear peace forever most
 When time is ripe to revive the past
 Let us see who stands triumphant