Signs from the north side

True Celtic power from the cape of Cornwall Cry of hope, angels cry This was omen, our sign, prediction Distant gate, gothic grave Through ages our clan still remain In this proud land I grew up strong, My tears are flowing all around The wind is twisting my sorrow I still believe in truth and hate All through my life I have carried our ring, The omen All this was the fragment from my life In this proud land I was born alone I was taught to fight, taught to win They told me the way of steel and secret I am the unburied child, child without a nam, Without fate, I fight for peace and love, I am reborn