Four witches, the temple of ire
Lost spirits, drawn into the fire
Black masses, driven by fear
Lone shadows, ordained to disappear

And with every bitter draught
Darkness infests every thought

Lone wanderer, a monarch of yore
Dethroned by the ireful blades of war
Forsaken, a powerless shell
From exile, called by witches' spell

And with every bitter draught
Darkness infests every thought
Sinking deep into the mind
Forging grief inside

One who saw the
Doom Of Sargoth
All of your hope is lost
Echoes of the
Doom Of Sargoth
Captive of the frost

Grim nightmares, embodied grandsire
Desolation, crave the shrine of ire
Deaf voices, divulging the lore
Forced splutter, a pledge to nevermore

Father of the
Doom Of Sargoth
All of your hope is lost
Nightmares of the
Doom Of Sargoth
Captive of the frost

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