Watery rubber boots

On the field of moss

Inside the boots weary legs

Of the man I always meet



Swamp full of mist

Icy embrace

Nothing left of

Sense of direction



[Chorus:]

Swamphell

Kill me, let me sink in your lap



Once was the air crystal clear

Secular joys were so near

Glory days have left behind

Swamplord calls now misty mind



Swamp full of mist

Icy embrace

Nothing left of

Sense of direction



[Chorus:]



When there is nothing left on the surface

And the wind is blowing slow

Under the carpet of moss

Finally I meet my Swamplord