Each of us must face the question, are we man or are we beast?
But no pagan son e''er found his answer, staring blindly to the East.

So I raise my fists, to an ashen sky, and call to gods that do not hear,
My hollow words, impotent and vain, are scattered on the howling winds.

But let this never be forgotten, this earth has tasted the blood of my clan.
Not of flesh, Not of dirt, but of Spirit we are one.

My answer beats with the heart of the mountain, and crashes with the thunder in the sky,
And the wind that whispers in my ear, will stay with me ''til the day I die.