"A man that flies from his fear may find he has only taken a short cut to meet it." - J.R.R. Tolkien
I wear the chains of a likely subject You, like a fool, let me into your keep And now blood has dried on the blade of my sword The chains on my back are gone
I gain the wall, take the life from your guardian Use it's claw, take the head from your king And now blood has dried on the blade of my sword I set fire the Inner Hall
The keep my goal Their army fears the battle The seas will roll The mountains shield the battle
Flames lick from your once great fortress Cut down with ease all your ill-trained men Now blood has dried on the blade of my sword You ran from the fight and lost
The keep my goal Their army fears the battle The seas will roll The mountains shield the battle
Command nothing as the chaos binds you Your force running as they follow your lead Your bards will sing of your deeds and fortress They'll sing it's name call it Coward's KeepTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
