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Description
The feel of the sun and rain in her hair,
The breathless laugh of the hunter.
The roaring blood in her ears,
Wind and ice never could stop her.

The call of the ancient voices are soft,
In the youth of the new world's mind.
The whispers of older times,
Are no longer fresh in the blood deep inside.

The wings on her back were invisible,
But the armer was true and strong.
With her sword in hand she marched,
To battle with the Old Ones' song.

No walls or chains held her back,
No ropes bound her spirit inside.
No man or woman could keep her down,
Nothing could tame that raw spirit so wild.

Maybe the magic of the old world has gone,
Maybe the tales and songs have vanished.
But even with the passage of the sands of time,
They will never from our minds be banished.

Description
The feel of the sun and rain in her hair,
The breathless laugh of the hunter.
The roaring blood in her ears,
Wind and ice never could stop her.

The call of the ancient voices are soft,
In the youth of the new world's mind.
The whispers of older times,
Are no longer fresh in the blood deep inside.

The wings on her back were invisible,
But the armer was true and strong.
With her sword in hand she marched,
To battle with the Old Ones' song.

No walls or chains held her back,
No ropes bound her spirit inside.
No man or woman could keep her down,
Nothing could tame that raw spirit so wild.

Maybe the magic of the old world has gone,
Maybe the tales and songs have vanished.
But even with the passage of the sands of time,
They will never from our minds be banished.