And as the Gods willed during the time of war Lograttin was killed. Safe within the borders of our own Milky Way Nowhere near the long lost place known as "the Grey" Lograttin was buried beneath Giza's scorching sand, majestically yet unworthy for a ruler of these lands. A solemn wind drew dust upon a statue of his name, though the name is scracthed away by anger, time and shame. The statue of the lion lays heavily on his grave Noone comes for mourning prayers, to the old and cold betrayer deep beneath the ancient layers of grey. Still by his grave jackals howl at night 'till the break of dawn and Sirius' flight ends in the west across the seas to rest there for the day to let the peace and harvest reign, for which we all have prayed. And though Lograttin now is gone, few dare speak his name. We hold our hearts and pray our gods to grant us wine and grain. Hope, my child, to never see the time of war Close your eyes and try to see a better age than was for me, a less cursed time than what was before. Vote a ruler wise and strong, of Zatholach's own belief to end the time of grief. I know a man of peaceful ways, tempted is he by the crown young of mind and strong of arms. Skin the tint of hardened clay, his face is void of vicious frown. a lord that would never do us harm. Seek and you shall find a master who is kind. I would cast my vote for him, get his family's blood and bones seated on the golden throne. We remember with sadness, Ankataal. Yet noone knew his humble little death could stand so tall, Lograttin's second child of misfortune the stillborn one, threw shadows upon both his people and the sun. Wings on wings Cogs on cogs Lightning, terror blinding fog. Give us a ruler worthy of the world.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
