Savage creed.

Hail to the gods of old.

Stories as old as death and left untold.

Hail To the Warrior's heart our savage creed.

And to the pictish blood that we all bleed.

Thru bone and Stone, we all are free.

The last of a dying breed. our eternal sleep.

In Tír Na Nóg we Soon Shall be. Down the lock, our bodies flee and set our spirits free.

This world's controlled by the weak and meek.

Won't live on Our knees would rather die on our feet.

The gods take us home Pull our souls from flesh and bone.

Tonight The goddesses take us as their own.

The last of a dying breed. our eternal sleep.

In Tír Na Nóg we Soon Shall be. Down the lock, our bodies flee and set our spirits free.

From Ireland to Scotland and Wales.

For the pics, the Scots and celts we hail.

With Celtic blood as thick as ink to the bottom of Loch Ness We shall sink

Children of the Alps we shall always be.

The last of a dying breed. our eternal sleep.

In Tír Na Nóg we Soon Shall be. Down the lock, our bodies flee and set our spirits free.