Black is the blood that flows down from the mountains Poisoned are the veins that drench our once green pastures
We deserve our own suffering A ruined nation without a king
Ashes fall like snow where once our forests stood Whatever remains the salt will wither away
Asternas, once the glory of all the kingdoms Bright was our flame, great were the works we've made Where foreign lords gladly paid tribute And pilgrims renewed their faith
We deserve our own suffering A ruined nation without a king
Once we ruled as kings, glorious was our fame Accursed is the land we once called our home Chained down as slaves we're driven forth Clinging unto what hope our future holds
Who will end our suffering? Who will become our new king?
We've forgotten the desolation we once were in We beggared the people we swore to protect Our arrogance had wrought our own downfall And an empty throne in a ruined hallTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
