Instrumental

The road goes through the Blood Stone Canyon. To the sunset he’s riding low. The rocks reflect the horseshoes’ ringing. And croaking songs of his battle crow. His torch shines bright in evening darkness Guides his way across the mountainside The burning eyes of nocturnal creatures Keep watch over the Barbarian’s ride. His bastard–sword was forged by demons It soaked the blood of thousands killed His armored horse can walk on water, Never gets tired, faster than the wind His eyes have seen a lot of battles, A lot of madness, a lot of death. How many towns were drowned in fire? How many foes have found eternal rest? The Barbarian riding down the mountainside... А long way home – a path of remembrance Forgotten fragments of his life before Mother’s milk, young sister’s laughter First fight, first bitter sip of blood. Remembrance of that hungry winter That hunt with brothers far from home Those shining wolf fangs all around them Tundra scoffed his dying groans Wizard’s eyes and magic potions. A healing hand on his deadly wounds. First book he read, first foreign language, First spell he cast, first painted runes. Slivers of his mystic visions At magic mushrooms ritual . An open mind wants revelations. His quest for knowledge has begun. Beside the deadly desert That is spreading to the East He found a cruel country That drowned in blood and tears. The demented king’s amusement is To see his own people strung on spears. Inside the nameless dungeons That never knew the light He searched for fabled power – The artifacts of might. He fought its monster guardians. They came to life in scary legends told at night. Among the somber mountains Beneath the gloomy sky He met the monkey people With dazzling snow white hide. He drowned in their wisdom, Their knowledge of the universe and life. Into the southern wastelands He faced the ashen folk With their archaic culture And totem worship cult. That’s not all of his adventures Which only the wizard’s chronicles can recall. A special place in his remembrance The sweetest memories of fights. It’s the only thing that gives him freedom. It’s the only thing that makes him fly. Naked steel and shouting armies, Neighing horses, dying cries, Smashed skulls, blood flows in trenches... He faced the death to feel alive. He saw the light on the horizon – His stronghold made of wood and bone. His seven wives can no longer wait him. Like snakes they twist around his throne. The seven wives will heal his body. The Wizard’s potions will cure his mind. He’ll tell his women a lot of stories. Stories about the Barbarian’s ride. The Barbarian riding down the mountainside...

Instrumental