The Flute:
Once again I am facing the battleground
As the sunrise lays down its first rays.
It is time for human blood to be spilled!
The Bard:
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute:
Never!
In the hands of the bard, I will rejoice
As the severed heads hit the ground.
My bloodlust shall never be fulfilled.
The Bard:
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute:
Never!
Out of an haunted wood I once was made.
And as your breath flows through my old brown corpse,
I sing a melody old of decades,
That hides the screams of wrath and tears of blood
Of a thousand men who died by the rope.
See how calm is that plain
Before the men cover the ground
With their guts
Into rivers of red
Under the sun!
The Storyteller:
Warriors fought until the night
And screams of pain ran through the bloodstained fields
And now, the flesh of the dead
Will feed the ravens 'til the dawn.
The Flute:
Violence and fears of the men
Have made my wooden heart tremble
Now my singing will fly to the stars!
The Bard:
My fingers are forced to dance on the wood,
My lungs are emptied of their breath
Shall this malison ever end?
The Flute:
Never!
The Storyteller:
And the ones who won the fight
Will head back to their homes with joy and pride
Tonight the flute of the bard
Will sing her gloomy song of hate!
The Flute:
Impatient to see some new blood flowing,
I tell by my windy sound the horrors of war.
As a leech I consume my owner's breath
In order to avenge a thousand souls I once held.
My furious melody shall penetrate the hearts of men
As long as I travel through centuries.
United in me, the souls of the hanged
Are now the new hangmen for those who live

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