The mist lies heavy on the heaving bosom of the sea And through the murky depths, her monstrous children stare at me So we strike our oars through the yawning abyss, unable to tell What fate awaits us on the isle ahead What hope can be found in the mouth of hell
We reach Su’Lychh Ocean tomb of heroes dead Seeking their aid May they rise from stony beds
We’re beset by ghastly warriors in the halls of rot Sent to test our mettle, in this place steel matters not But we breach the inner sanctum, where on an oaken throne Sits the paragon of an ancient line Clutching his sword with hands of bone
“The dead take no orders from men who yet breathe. How dear is your conquest?” the wight croaks to me With sword raised, alone I charge the old throne With a smile on my face I rain steel upon bone
We battle long and gloriously, ‘til by my own accord I take the knee in honor and my neck meets his sword And lo, throughout that sunken hall, as I meet my end Appears a grim and rotten host Vast and eager to defend
The dead take no orders from men who yet breathe “Your spirit proves strong, in death you shall lead The legions of bone No longer alone Arise from the depths and reclaim your throne”Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
