Dying of the Light


Pick up the sword
Sharpen the blade
Foe at the gate
Ready to attack

Troops of doom
At the door
Time is running
Awfully low

In the darkness
He mocks the light
On a throne made of
Human bone

Forged in hatred
To kill us all
Their hearts
Just rotten soil

In the darkness
He mocks the light
On a throne made of
Human bone

Ten thousand scars
On his soul

A taunted being
A despised life

Now they fight
To survive
To be alive
To see the dawn

Resisting the
Dying of the light

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