In a house of a godless king,
A dead star will die,
The crystal mountain begins to sing,
And the cyclops loses his eye.
The heavens begin to scream,
As oceans of hate spill in,
The silence awakens the queen,
And two-hundred cycles begin.
In the wake of a beast,
With no head and no end,
Rides the queen to the feast,
All lords knees will bend.
At the eat of the dead,
In the hall of the mouth,
Stairs colored red,
Calls the hole in the south.
The way of the sword,
The time of the light,
The law of a lord,
All end that night.
Out the rend colored blue,
He judges the worth,
For each one there's two,
A hole in the north.
Appraisal of matter,
Priced at the worst,
The words of the latter,
Anger the first.
A stirring of flies,
The toll of a bell,
The dead will now rise,
Evicted from hell.
Two princes of death,
Two legions of souls,
Decay on their breath,
Exacting their tolls.
The end of an era,
At the final turn,
The queen reigns in terra,
And watches it burn.
The race of the mind,
Take the king of nine stars,
They exit in kind,
Healing nine scars.
