A god size man The pressure of his duty can be crushing Those who stand in the way of his talents Are only judging
His power of reason has done his legion And armies very well To gain respect of the nobles Can almost turn to his hell
Dark is the heart seeking revenge Your sense of pride will meet death Not knowing where or when Shattered are the lives You have burned to the ground Heavy is the head that wears the crown
A weary life of catastrophe A reckoning with no remorse Sickening floods and of fire Will take its natural course The cleansing of his soul With sage and bermagat is such a waste The lords are unaware The master is wearing a shroud of grace
Dark is the heart seeking revenge Your sense of pride will meet death Not knowing where or when Shattered are the lives You have burned to the ground Heavy is the head that wears the crown
His seers and his jesters cannot Lift his spirits at all As tribes of the ferals are Policing themselves Once he stood as a mountain Now his pride seems to crawl Like a witch at the stake He hears the funeral bell
Heavy is the head that wears the crownTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
