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