The drum is my steed, The wind my wings  The mind of an eagle is my soul... and my will is of frozen soil    Far in the edge of night and twilight is a tree  on which branches lies the souls of unborn  And ravens the bringers of light  are guiding them into oblivion    My eyes didn't see I didn't speak when I was born  far north embraced by tundra  My forter said I bore the marks  I was going to be his successor    I watched my ancestors to bleed themselves  to attain the utter conciousness  To find the long-gone spirit to kill  to ride the night again...    When the dusk comes I feel myself alive  when the last rays of the sun have died  Begun my ride through the darkest of nights  as my will becomes one with the wolves...    ...I feel the desire to haunt...  ...I feel the desire to kill...