Testo di Writ of Pitchfork

Hard is too of life's decay With breaths withering we all shall pay See hoards run thinner by the day Wealth falls to dust on winding way Why returns a man To field where he fell Barros he fears less than a single farewell Why kneels a man On ruins of one throne When blood of her sons did built it alone First to reave, blood cleanse the grief No dust drown the hate nor guilt shall relieve Why then are my dreams of war And war dreams of me Why returns a man To field where he fell Barros he fears less than a single farewell Why kneels a man On ruins of one throne When blood of her sons did built it alone Banner clad spears in wreath of thousands Fallen seethe on hooves beneath Horns blow the length of man's breath Ride to the gates of death