The man of doom is racked by tears
His dark soul rots; a grey horde prowls.
Five halos beam red to purge iron guilt
moans rip bare woods; St Aegle chants hymns.
A fire sword melts; the orc tribes kneel
and pledge to serve one king of light.
Vile forms rise pure; God tends young faith
A holy dove speaks; his grand court smiles.
His dark soul rots; a grey horde prowls.
Five halos beam red to purge iron guilt
moans rip bare woods; St Aegle chants hymns.
A fire sword melts; the orc tribes kneel
and pledge to serve one king of light.
Vile forms rise pure; God tends young faith
A holy dove speaks; his grand court smiles.
