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lyrics
Orge, Borge, (x8)
Came from Irish Lands.
To spread her legend.
You will be killed…
… By her scream.
Nobody expects her coming,
On the quiet lands of Gallia.
A flea comes,
You can't avoid
Her fury.
Determined and thirsty
For your fear.
"Emmi garman, garomaros litauitoutios
Sagios senos dagabivotoi obnakos slanuspe namas"
Tremble in front of my power,
Poor Andecave mortals.
I declare you war !
credits
released July 19, 2019
license
all rights reserved