ᛗᛁᛞᚷᚨᚱᛞ ᛊᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚠᛟᚷ into the iron-red salted earth I go
the destruction was the work of angels
we could lie on dry fields at the end of Time
On Wandering in a Sea of Fog
ᛗᛁᛞᚷᚨᚱᛞ ᛊᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚠᛟᚷ into the iron-red salted earth I go
the destruction was the work of angels
we could lie on dry fields at the end of Time