Circle Of The Tyrants

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Ca sĩ: Celtic Frost

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Kích thước chữ:
After the battle is over
And the sands drunken the blood
All what there remains
Is the bitterness of delusion
The immortality of the gods
Sits at their side
As they leave the walls behind
To reach the jewels gleam
The days have come
When the steel will rule
And upon his head
A crown of gold
Your hand wields the might
The tyrant's the precursor
You carry the will
As the morning is near
I sing the ballads
Of victory and defeat
I hear the tales
Of frozen mystery
The new kingdoms rise / By the circle of the tyrants
In the land of darkness / The warrior, that was me
Grotesque glory / None will (ever) see them fall
And hunts and war / Are like everlasting shadows
Where the winds cannot reach / The tyrant's might was born
And often I look back / With tears in my eyes
Grotesque glory / None will (ever) see them fall
And hunts and wars / Are like everlasting shadows
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