Virgin Land Plowed Over by Death Lyrics

There are three silhouettes in the dark
They are hunchback, rotten and cruel
Broken fingers are crooked as an arc
Crones are stretching them up to the moon

Empty eye holes are filthy and blind
Toothless mouths are tight-lipped and shut
They are pulling a black wooden coat
Through the narrow and lightless gut

Feel the pestilence's sound
Grab a hook, sift the grain
Spill their blood on the ground
Take their life, leave them pain

In the recess of ravines
Which are cloaked in the stench
Dead are carried by ravens
To live out in the trench

Mispersuated and decrepit ship
With some ignorant spadones aboard
Burning down under sound of a whip
Kissing cross in the name of their Lord

They'll be dead without leaving a mark
Singing masses and slitting their throats
There are three silhouettes in the dark
They are pulling a black wooden coat