Stand the Young Bloods in a line for the ritual to start Kneel before the worthy few whose hunts we venerate Maroon, the walls with their decor Of trophies from the hunts that our elites have won before
I yearn to prove myself for good A blooded male with highest prestige
Sable void with speckled dots of milky, distant starlight To the fringe of everywhere, we travel to our prey The thrill of the perfect, hunting danger Where so many failed is where I'll exploit every weakness
Rush of blood The gates are open
Feel the rush within Striding on to find the perfect prey to fight Hunter culture
Just myself and two others We stalk the barren wasteland Craggy valleys, swelling land that's home to harshest creatures This rite of passage will I pass Find the hive of vicious prey, prove my fighting spirit
Spirit of the warrior inside
Pitch black darkness Call upon the spirit of your ancestors Trapped inside with feral beast of tooth and claw Call upon your heart and strike when it attacks Trapped inside with me, they shall not escape
Slicing through cadavers, flesh, and twisting, gnarled tendons Gnashing jaws and claws like spears, yet I'll always triumph
Meet your greatest match Struggle on to kill the feral beast and prove Hunter cultureTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
