Lords

The lords of the pa*ses are arming their va*sals You'll find no shelter that way The conscripts they've taken have never returned And our hopes fade with each pa*sing day The gates of the keeps are all closing And broken men wander the roads The farmers have fled to the forests Burning their fields as they go The dukes of the marches have ordered their archers To shoot all outlanders on sight Turn back your horses before it's too late There'll be no safe crossing this night Hear the horns, pounding hooves Visions of cities aflame Wailing cries, dawn of doom Die by the sword or in chains Men kneel in temples of madness False prophets spread discord and fear Darkness descends once again They take the royals of last days to rule here