Your march through this woods will lead you to your grave   Spare my soul, we take your sins and bring you guidance   We know our way, the path of our fathers   Sons of god, proclaim your gracious salvation      Through the cold days of ice, while the storm wind whips   The only thing that warms is the fire made by us   No god will fix you up when you shatter on a rock   But the herb behind the stone that cuts scars into your bones      Your march through this woods will lead you to your grave   Spare my soul, we take your sins and bring you guidance   We know our way, the path of our fathers   Sons of god, proclaim your gracious salvation      Take your cross and spill your blood to step closer to him   If we meet again as you say, we may see who has sinned      Fall astray into an empty space   no Savior and no divine redemption      Desperate cry, fade away in distance   leave all behind, your signs of immortality   The wind roams the trees, while flames light up the hill   Silence prevail and soon the pagan path appear      Take your cross and spill your blood to step closer to him   If we meet again as you say, we may see who has sinned