Hundreds lay dead and plaster the wet cobblestone of the haunted city
There are no streetlights but the full moon on this chilling
December's night
Silence all around nothing but the cry of crows and the rumble of the
deads chariot The brave lie broken on the field of fate, where once
justice was soughtWith pride our legions fought and with raging
anger, our armies clashed with the forces of light
A grim sight, as bodies paint a dark picture unto the hillsideat last,
triumph at Armageddonrenewal is at hand