The Nostaliga Of The Old That Runs Through Our Veins

Of another time we stood with pride

And honour in our hearts

And blood that flowed with nobility...

That blood still runs in our veins

The unrecognisable nostalgia of the past

A past we didn't live in... A past we never knew...

Yet somehow we are attached

It calls to us and emotes us

Feelings that only few can feel

This nostalgia is also one of tragedy

Loss that the world is how it is

That we can never return to times of glory

Greed has suffocated this feeling for some

Others are surrounded by paranoia

Or dreams of false grandeur

The few who remain strong, honourable and true

To themselves continue this fight

The past echoes throughout the future

Without it we are nothing...

To the glory of the old and the dark pull in nature

We must stand strong, for our numbers are few

And this art cannot die

The flame burns on in our blood and in our minds

And our hearts filled with pride

For the nostalgia of the old

That runs through our veins