In The Might Of Pan

By Frater Mastema

He was the sign of the living all,
Primeval power of the forest tall,
His cloven hoofs as strong as stone,
Crushed under all the bone.
Seven reeded pipe he plays,
Sacred song of life he stays,
Spotted fawn skin he doth pack,
Shows all the heavens crack,
His horns are rays of power,
Showing lights through the tower.
Running for the distant place,
He fades away.
Time went by, people lived and died,
To the core they rot, they forgot,
In the towns, corruptions all around,
Now there caught, the wars they've fought.
In flight they see a distant sight,
Here he comes he is the one,
Lays down his arms,
Puts glory to charms.
Running for the distant place,
He fades away.