The fog crawls from the swamp
Smell of stagnant water
Souls of once drowned warriors
Awful shapes left of men
Penetrate through all
Nothing untouched
Their will of hatred
No soul unscarred
At night beware them
The fog of the dead
Wishing nothing good
Cunning and treacherous
Faces of brothers
Long dead relatives
As much as the fog is familiar
It offers only death
Penetrate through all
Nothing untouched
Their will of hatred
No soul unscarred