Текст песни ТРОПА - Язычник

He woke up the morning and weighed:
Hard is the world of love stingy.
Deceitful angels, better - the demons,
If life has announced the fight.

He is not weak, he knew victory.
It could be more, but there is a longing.
He - a pagan, he - the son of the dawn,
Son of wheat spikelets,

Lost inadvertently,
Not seeking to pay homage ...
He - an outcast, and cruel princes
By rejecting the power of icons.

We despised Gentile
All the shrine - not for show:
Together with blood in the heart sac
It fits just right!

He sacred nature of the riot,
He roads Yarilin light ...
But paganism - blasphemy
Where do they worship as the law covenant.

... And when, and it - with the crowd -
Dubbed, there was a message:
Miraculously from pariah
The spike turned the cross!

But the heathen sobbed first time
He could not take trouble.
He did not believe that their saints -
In the wake of madmen.