Ария - Аттила

His hand is very small,
But grab whole world in fist
As wretched little chick,
That scratched and croak.

He is not cured at all
By solemn winning feast.
This face of ugly freak
Can't mask by smoke.

Heaven's curse,
The God's hate.
He bites the dust and sweat.
On the horse,
Edge of Fate,
The shining of the Death.

The swirling of the horde
Mixed up all evil pack,
And Scythian or Hun
Divide the crown.

Attila's fire burned,
Then next it brings the plague
And barbarous tone
Burn the fate down.

West is here
And so close.
We'll blast the door with steel.
Call you hear –
The steppe voice,
It's Asian beast is real.

Above us the flag of dark blue skies,
No fear in the cold shining eyes.
There no rules in the predawn hours.
By nightfall, death will judge all of us.

The deadliest love-line
And ruthless cruel fate
At their wedding feast
Had the memorial.

He drinks his tainted wine,
Then poison stuff is felt.
Feels like a bitter kiss,
The last euphoria.

Down in throat
Blood and ales,
The Wild's life on the run.
And now you're what
Child of Gales,
The King of brutal Huns?

Above us the flag of dark blue skies,
No fear in the cold shining eyes.
There no rules in the predawn hours.
By nightfall, death will judge all of us.

West is here
And so close.
We'll blast the door with steel.
Call you hear –
The steppe voice,
It's Asian beast is real.

Above us the flag of dark blue skies,
No fear in the cold shining eyes.
There no rules in the predawn hours.
By nightfall, death will judge…

Above us the flag of dark blue skies,
No fear in the cold shining eyes.
There no rules in the predawn hours.
By nightfall, death will judge all of us.
By nightfall, death will judge all of us...