Somewhere there's a dark, desolate place,
Filled with sorrow of the dead,
Across a river your multi soul goes,
Your living shaman soul begins to dread,
Ferried across by the dead,
On the other side of the gate.
This dark, desolate realm,
Guarded by the dead in helm,
Side by side,
Shield to shield.
The art of trickery is needed here,
The living shall fill with fear,
Your not really among the dead!
What the dark, lonely souls dread,
A living, Finnish shaman in this realm,
Be careful of what you do in this living hell!
The living isn't welcomed,
For this is the land of the dead,
The solitary shaman feels right at home,
Better for this shaman to have come alone.
The solitary shaman filled with sorrow,
And so lonely with no hope for tomorrow,
From the aura of the land of the dead,
He should've never stepped through the portal,
And onto the boat that ferries him across the river,
Back through that portal to the land of the living.
This is basically a tale of a lone Finnish shaman soul traveling to the Finnish pagan mythological realm of the dead. He ferries across a river, and into the desolate sorrowful land. He basically had to trick those who guard the realm he was dead and not alive, or he'd be killed himself before finally leaving the realm.