There are [bad word] tales of a lost age
Throwing anger in the airs
As far as I remember,
Here's how it starts

It begings by the campfire of a people,
Outlaws, foreigners in these lands,
Long ago when Gaia was pure

An old man had crossed the dark woods,
Hidden, like he was part of the night
He uttered these few words,
Until he was gone:

"The eagle will fly again,
Out of the icy den,
To cover the world with a breath of death"
Such a curse

Javeelina, protector of the wood,
High judge of the treacherous weak
Javeelina, high acumen,
Erase the roots of our own shackled fate

Her voice, appeased all the spirits,
Fallen years when hope outshoned the sun wheel
Dwell the name of the Dryad, Javeelina
For our cause

Heirs of the winds from the east,
Yell your oath in the night, for our cause
(in the Hollow Woods)
Heirs of the fire from the west,
Join the horde and the preachers of doom [bad word] 
Her might, will guide us,
Through the lands that lead us towards glory
Dwell the name of the Dryad, Javeelina
For our cause

Heirs of the winds from the east,
Yell your oath in the night, for our cause
(in the Hollow Woods)
Heirs of the fire from the west,
Join the horde and the preachers of doom [bad word]