Watery rubber boots   On the field of moss   Inside the boots weary legs   Of the man I always meet      Swamp full of mist   Icy embrace   Nothing left of   Sense of direction      [Chorus:]   Swamphell   Kill me, let me sink in your lap      Once was the air crystal clear   Secular joys were so near   Glory days have left behind   Swamplord calls now misty mind       Swamp full of mist   Icy embrace   Nothing left of   Sense of direction      [Chorus:]      When there is nothing left on the surface   And the wind is blowing slow   Under the carpet of moss   Finally I meet my Swamplord