No banners here… no golden halls…
Only wind… and distant calls…
The snow remembers every tread…
Of hoof and man… and those long dead…
I was raised where the cold cuts deep…
Where the strong don’t speak… they keep…
Varsk at heel and bow in hand…
No law but fang… no soft command…
The torva ride with fire and pride…
The nona whisper, scheme, and hide…
But I have walked where both have bled…
And fed my beasts on what they left…
Where the varsk still run… I belong…
Not to crown… not to song…
In the wild… I am known…
Bone to bone… and stone to stone…
I’ve seen the Yennik throne run red…
Heard the words the dying said…
Names of kings… lost in the gale…
All men break… the varsk prevail…
Sergei breeds in iron and frost…
Counts his beasts, not what is lost…
Gold may pass from hand to hand…
But tusk and blood still rule this land…
Where the varsk still run… I belong…
Not to crown… not to song…
In the wild… I am known…
Bone to bone… and stone to stone…
Call me savage… call me stray…
I’ve outlived those who chose a way…
Crown or temple, steel or lies…
All freeze the same… beneath these skies…
Where the varsk still run… I belong…
Not to crown… not to song…
In the wild… I am known…
Bone to bone… and stone to stone…
…stone to stone…
…stone to stone…
Where the Varsk Still Run
Released