Amon Amarth

Hes running through woods so black
A loyal servant of christ
Dogs are barking down his back
Hes running for his life
He came with words of love and peace
These heathens had to be saved
He thought that he could make them see
Instead he was enslaved
In captivity he spoke of god
To all he met he preached
But when his masters patience ran out
He knew he had to flee
Tears are running down his cheeks
As he sobbing realize
That in this land his God is weak
And today hes going to die
He stumbles out onto an open field
Where an old oak tree grows
In the branches hang men of three
Dressed in preacher robes