[Intro] [Upbeat fingerpicked acoustic guitar and driving Telecaster twang establish the rhythm, locked with tight punchy drums and a singing fiddle lead] [Verse 1] Beneath the plowshare in the frozen mud Dug from the dirt like petrified blood Twelve kilos of iron age pagan light Torn from the frost into modern sight Vesterljung parish, barren and cold A thousand-year secret suddenly told Goldsmith of gods from the migration age Forged before history wrote on the page Coils of neck-rings, massive and raw Buried outside of imperial law [Pre-Chorus] Rune-carved granite guarding the mound Heathen relics pulled from the ground Untouched by centuries, buried in stone Heavy as iron, cold to the bone [Chorus] Twelve kilos of gold in Tureholm soil! Pagan dominion, centuries of toil! Neck-rings shining in a frozen haze Pulled from the soil into modern gaze! From four-hundred AD hidden away Tearing the dark into blinding day! [Verse 2] Pushed into the dark when the old gods fell Resting through centuries, silent and still Empires crumble, borders are torn While under the loam the relic is born Now locked in a vault, behind glass and steel Far from the forest and iron plow wheel A sacred fortune torn from the grave Nothing that church or the crown could save The clay gave it up to the winter rain A pagan shadow on the modern plain [Bridge] The plow struck the cache The metal rang out Spring seventeen-seventy-four Twelve kilos of pure gold Unearth the gold! [Chorus] Twelve kilos of gold in Tureholm soil! Pagan dominion, centuries of toil! Neck-rings shining in a frozen haze Pulled from the soil into modern gaze! From four-hundred AD hidden away Tearing the dark into blinding day! [Outro] Vesterljung. [Pedal steel sings over a steady country shuffle, ending on a crisp acoustic strum and lingering Telecaster note]
