Bring the child, the chose one, the shamans have foretold
An approaching horde has come to end our way of life
With sword and board they conquer those who they call heretics
Forcing them to worship their crucified god

The child accepts his destiny
The sacred mountain's blowing winds
Push through decay and choking vines
The Golem's fortress or we die, we die.

Shamans carve the sigils and prepare the sacrifice
Upon a pile of mold and bones the chosen's blood is spilled
The sigils begin to glow, the pile then undulates
Open eyes, he clenches fists, he knows what must be done

Mold Golem - so fearsome
Mold Golem - their end will come

Side by side Golem and man await the first attack
Wearing bands in honor of the sacrifices made
Approaching enemy soldiers make the ground quake
The Golem lumbers forward and crushes the first wave

As the frightened crusaders realize what lies ahead
They genuflect in prayer with no answers ever to come
Ripping and tearing the zealots apart, the Golem never tires
An ocean of blood for those who dare to cross into our land

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