作曲 : Rumpelstiltskin Grinder
When prophecies speak of victory 
There is still a need to fear 
May the gluttons fill their plates 
May the crowds of fools cheer 
A southern fire rises 
From the bay of 
Buccaneers 
Who despite the hell spawned winds 
Decided not to stop here 
In the face of defeat we fought 
No excuse we make 
Our time was bled away 
With everything at stake 
Abandoned veteran 
Of a doomed crusade 
An Eagles last flight 
To take away our faith 
Bodies will rot, through bodies 
I wade! We have seen heroes 
Bleeding every day 
Running from a curse 
That will never go away 
The wind blows coldest here 
The ground itself is dead 
Most vermin died here early 
As the bigger rats were fed 
Nowhere left to go now 
The best we still can’t trust 
Tear down my kingdom 
I will spit on the dust