Serpents (Beneath The Forest Of The Dead)

Dead vast forests
 Cold ground where death threads
 The blood of those who fell
 Buried in a tomb of ice 
Beneath the forest of the dead

The trees stand black and silent
 Immobile in the wind
 Reaching out in blasphemy
 Like hands cursing the gods

Beneath the forest of the dead

The roots still are growing, like serpents in the ground.
 Twisting, turning, slowly without sound

The roots now are spreading, thriving on the dead
 Hungry, feeding on the lost misled

So our limbs lie spread
 In the shadows of frozen wood
 But what is eternally dead
 Gives birth to blackened blood

Beneath the forest of the dead