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The king is dead all hail.
God bless the orphaned sons.
They raise their tear
filled eyes.
They join their hands and mourn.

The king is dead and gone,
slain at the hands of the heathens.
They raise their tear filled eyes up, upto
the blackening sunset.

They raise their tear filled eyes, upto the blackened
skies.
They raise their eyes upto the sunset.

Once more the dead shall rise
and raise their hands to mourn their king.

The dead will rise, to bless the
orphaned sons, to mourn their murdered king.
God bless the murdered king, they
take him to his grave.

It won't be long, until the end.

God bless the
oprhaned sons, god bless their tear filled eyes.
God bless their murdered
king, god bless their blood stained hands.

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