In the cold gray down, The first fires of the day are burning A prince has been born, ox snorts keep the grind stone churning a mazer of mead, so early on this eerie morning the fresh dung steams, the son of a king is quickly sworn in
he will save the steward who takes a Grote or shilling he will save us from the clergy and the priest
The swords man takes a bow, before he grabs the hilt and starts the killing there's sludge on his brow, a bold steel cut where the guts are spilling
eternal darkness you cannot see his presence is felt in a deep dark dream eternal darkness how can this be the dark ages onward to eternity
the crescent lamp is snuffed, a smoke plume rises from the oil a dead hand is touch the boar meat smells of rancid spoil a strange wind blows, a sack of half pence has gone missing the reeve holds his throat, through his fingers the blood is spilling
what will save the steward who takes a Grote or shilling what will save us from the clergy and the priest
The new king slides a note, under the door of the bishops palace a dagger in the cloak, as the courtiers engage in royal malice
eternal darkness you cannot see his presence is felt in a deep dark dream eternal darkness how can this be the dark ages onward to eternityTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
