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There’ll be corpses under foot
And ravens at their meat.
Shields and spears lay waste on slopes,
And demons haunting fields.
There’ll be stories of great battles,
And crying of great queens,
There’ll be mangling of piled bodies,
And mounds of steal on skin.
The elements all melt with heat, the hills and moors are all aflame,
And all the oceans boil and seethe, from nothing where I once came.
Why did the lord lift up my head? A thousand curses on that day.
One thousand curses on that day!
Stories of great battles told, and crying of ancient queens
Ravens circle the wasted bodies from the slashing of our steel
Blood of men in multitude, demons haunting me.
Host’s in turmoil,
Kings cut down.
Broken necks of hero have fallen.
Horses mangled, clans burnt out.
Heads on spikes and bodies burning.
Time to crush the fools of war
Blades in bodies hacking blows.
Let the rage rise, and into glory ride.
Its time to crush the fools of war.
Blazing bodies, fatal blows.
Let the rage rise, and into glory ride.
Blood of men in multitude poured out over once green,
I can sense a great slaughter men falling to their knees.
And when we meet you will fall. oh you will fall !
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I see the light is falling; another night is dawning, from whence it came.
And I see the witch is brewing, the stars appear confused, from witches’ spells.
Fear full morning, a monstrous time, with the strength of a thousand men, red dead will come to all!
The smile on my face, as I lay waste, my sword swings back and forth in blood
The rush, the thrill, the spirit of war, I swear I’ll kill you all before I fall!
With the clash of steal my pain is healed, the earth will drink the blood of gathered hordes (from devil horns)
It started in vengeance for the death of my father,
Enslaving my people, the rape of the fallen.
Deciding the future would be my up most, resistance be futile.
To your death I toast
(All from mountain to lakeside.
Men fall to gore.
The war spirit’s waiting
There’s blood on my hands)
It started ferocious red death to the fallen,
The clashing of hard swords, the morrigans calling.
Full of trouble be the plains of this land,
With many the loss of a valiant man.
Low and behold the power of the sword
It reaps all mortal man, a tale that’s written in blood.
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3. |
Maru
01:00
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