A wrinkle smile put on their pale face
Deep down inside scream suffer louder than pain
Cruel pleasure in disclosing sovereignty
Become the front vanguard and prepare for leaving their sinner soul
The breeze of the dawn dew hurtle like stabbed sword in the sward
Vengeance odor was filled with his odd beyond reason
All chevaliers undertake to quell the terror
Further encouraged to firm and unyielding
Unmistakably low of mournful sound from villagers innocent
As the strains that destroy the peace of the realm
Folk lay on the end of barren land
One groaned softly to himself, 'why was there hope?'
Savoring darkness and sorrow in his wistful eyes
The Death comes to wave hand and greets as an old friend.