Whipping tears from the skies
As the forsaken throne embraced its soul
With blood on their hands, and high-raised swords
The ancient gods command

Fading the forest, the shadows of the past
With the raven's command they march onwards

Swear by the moon and the stars in the sky
As they bend down and greet to their gods
A cold mist now hovers their ground
As they gather for war, mighty and proud

Shadows appear from behind the torchlight
Slowly arise from the deepest fog
The pestering storms, the raging battles
Forward from the north.

An ancient myth of a time to come
A black hole, an empty grave
A birth of a forthcoming master
The darkening sky, the fallen life as the stars die
In the gloom they rise
The crowned ones of ancient times

Fading the forest, the shadows of the past
With the raven's command they march onward.