Written On A Sunday Afternoon
In A Cold Exhibition Hall With No Visitors

Upon a lonely heath I sat
And wept with tears the thistles wet
Depressing moorlands endless lay
Beneath a raging sky of grey

I could not see a spot of green
I merely felt the harsh wind mean
I could not hear the birds' sweet song
The taste of cold despair was strong

Inside my head a melody
A rolling, thumping beat broke free
My feet tapped rhythmically the ground
To this beloved Metal sound

A figure formed inside my head
Shy smile and strong gaze mine own met
Five more behind this one appear
I close my eyes to see them clear

The spot I sit is still dismal
But I don't feel the harsh wind's spell
A glorious Maiden song I hear
Makes me forget the taste of fear

The mind's a wonderous thing, you see
He'll always be a friend to me
Bind me in chains, I laugh at thee:
Inside my mind, I'm always free