Thundra

Showing what was meant to be.
Walk the path, fallow your own trail.
Under frost to come the fire of, many a time winter cold to come.
In due time agony of pain will enlighten your soul to higher places.
To ride with the skies, to feel the wind through your bones.
No higher force can make them suffering of winter be endliess, to make the frost eternal.
High may the greater be, to make things so may it be enclose.
Night can be the door to make feelings appear, nights the goddes of eternaty.
Force is something to be recent with, to be followed through the shaft.
Disguised in warming good the writing will unfold, this is sure.
Hatred of the race to come, mountains will crumble.
Whispers will follow in trying moments, calling the pain.
The quilt cover frost bitteu bones
Revealing it's true nature turn to chalk
Grinded by feelings, smoldered by pain
Speak the world of hollow ground, speak it
high with agony sound.