Mordminnen - Finntroll

Mördaren han bodde i ett torp

Lynnet mörk som fjädrar av korp

Butter och ensam med mord i sinnet

Ett dussin dråp, han njöt av minnet

Mord i minnet

Han vaktar, han spejar för sina lamm

Hatets ande i honom stigit fram

Vid vägars kant, vid stigars fåra

Fylld av slakten, törstig att såra

Under oväder blott han slå nu till

När allting är stängt, han äta vill

Då fångar han mångens nära och kära

Deras kött till den mörkes ära, förtära!

Sina verktyg han putsat väl

Med dessa han sticker ihjäl

Torka, vira, slita, riva

Han kan sin konst, han grina

Mord i minnet

Hans ben snart brinna i eldars hav

Hans straff, han veta, en hetaste grav

Där han plågas underjord

För sina dåd, för minnen av mord

The murderer, he lived in a croft

His mentality dark as feathers of a crow

Dour and alone with murder in his heart

A dozen slaughters, he enjoyed of the memory

Murder in mind

He guards, he spies on his lambs

The spirit of hatred grows in him

On the sides of roads, at the trenches of paths

Filled with massacre, thisrty to hurt

He strikes only during a storm

When everything is done, he will eat

There he catches the close and dear ones of many

Their flesh for the glory of the dark, devoured!

He cleaned his tools well

With them hangs them up

Dry, wind, tear, grate

He knows his tricks, he grins

Murder in mind

His leg shortly burns in the sea of flames

His penalty, he knows, the hottest tomb

There he is cursed under the ground

For his deeds, for memories of murder

The killer he lived in a croft

Temper dark as feathers of raven

Butter and alone with murder on his mind

A dozen kills, he savored the memory

Murder in Memory

He watches, he watches over his lambs

The spirit of hatred in him has risen

By the edge of roads, by the furrow of paths

Filled with the slaughter, thirsty to wound

During storms he only strikes now

When everything is closed, he wants to eat

Then he captures many loved ones

Their flesh to the glory of the dark, devour!

His tools he polished well

With these he stabs to death

Wipe, wrap, tear, tear

He knows his art, he grins

Murder in Memory

His bones soon burn in the sea of ​​fire

His punishment, he knows, a hottest grave

Where he is tormented underground

For their deeds, for memories of murder

The murderer, he lived in a croft

His mentality dark as feathers of a crow

Dour and alone with murder in his heart

A dozen slaughters, he enjoyed the memory

Murder in mind

He guards, he spies on his lambs

The spirit of hatred grows in him

On the sides of roads, at the trenches of paths

Filled with massacre, this year to hurt

He only strikes during a storm

When everything is done, he will eat

There he catches the close and dear ones of many

Their flesh for the glory of the dark, devoured!

He cleaned his tools well

With them hangs them up

Dry, wind, tear, grate

He knows his tricks, he grins

Murder in mind

His leg shortly burns in the sea of ​​flames

His penalty, he knows, the hottest tomb

There he is cursed under the ground

For his deeds, for memories of murder