Sign From the Northside

True Celtic power From the cape of Cornwall Cry of hope, angels cry This was omen, our sign, prediction In this proud land I grew up strong My tears are flowing all around The wind is twisting my sorrow Distant gate, gothic grave Through ages our clan still remain True Celtic power From the cape of Cornwall Cry of hope, angels cry This was omen, our sign, prediction 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 name Without fate I fight for peace and love I am reborn