The flashing of steel, clamour of swords,
lost in a whirlwind of war,
scattered amidst the breaking men,
Arrows flying, country men dying
Hope is last thing we have,
Yet we still fight on!
Fighting until the last,
Surrounded but standing fast,
The arrows of fate soar higher and higher,
always hitting their mark,
Consequences of actions so dire,
leave blood in their path
Destiny,
Desire,
A lust for power
Infects the hearts of men,
within it devours
A turn of the head, Harold falls,
blood pouring from his face,
Blinded and beaten
All Hope is lost, The king is no more,
His body is mutilated,
Hacked apart by his foes
The battle is lost.
The Bastard takes the throne!
Hidden away, beneath the stones,
of trinity church beside the shore
Harolds remains are taken
His weight in gold is offered
To the duke of foreign lands
But he refuses
The right of Martyrdom taken from him!
The arrows of fate soar higher and higher,
always hitting their mark,
Consequences of actions so dire,
leave blood in their path
Destiny,
Desire,
A lust for power
Infects hearts of men,
From within it devours
Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa. |
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