Remnants of the blistered past

It's, gone back to the time where I really did need ya.
Remember the stories of her glories past beneath her.

The fame grew wider everyday,
From Cornwall to Orkney.
Wars were fought and those were won,
Not by mercy.
Armies spread the Celtic dread,
From ruins of Surrey.
Those who believe in grows of trees,
Shall now spread heresy.

Now we shall all climb from the sewers of Gallatia.
Rise under the rule of our beloved queen Boadicea.

Suffering,
Please Stop.

Forward shot with flames still growing,
Storm crow praised thee.
Together's not the strength of longing,
Tears of shard impaled me.

Drenched in blood for my own lust,
That's how I want to be.
Eyes leave a flood that drinks the dust,
That's not what you should see.

It's passed now the time where I really did need ya.
December to dismember armies crawling down beneath her.
Peace to be flowing in the growing south of Cheshire.
She was our leader our beloved queen Boadicea.

With time, only to be mine,
Souls divine, with aching climb to shine,
These long steps, to her embedded shrine,
Are guarded by, these spattered sheets of clime,
And so I glide, on wings gone with time,
But I strive, Boadicea will be mine.

And so I glide, on wings forlorn and gone with time,
But I strive, Boadicea will be mine!