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Upon a Pagan land in darkness came |
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A black and heartless spawn of seed, |
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A cruel and wretched plague, |
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For in the mist of tima a king lay slain |
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Anf left the vilest form of greed |
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With a crown to claim |
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They battle, heed no warning |
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Prattle as they feud their lives away |
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They drown in civil war; they bleed |
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And still your dreams chill the night |
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While the dead fill your head |
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Desperate scenes take yhe knife |
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Through your flesh to the bone |
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Such extremes shape this fight |
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Fire is fed; blood is shed |
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And the pleas to unite |
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Scream "Excalibur guide our way home" |
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A ray of hope emerging bright as day |
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Amidst the darkness hour, reveals |
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what is pre-ordained |
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To hold a sword of power the Gods have made |
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To temper lightning forged as steel |
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for it's sacred blade |
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Strenght, passion, hopes and glory |
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Balanced on the brink, no time to fail |
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This time the saviour must be real |
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And still your dreams chill the night |
|
While the dead fill your head |
|
Desperate scenes take yhe knife |
|
Through your flesh to the bone |
|
Such extremes shape this fight |
|
Fire is fed; blood is shed |
|
And the pleas to unite |
|
Scream "Excalibur guide our way home" |
