the throne of the lost has been vacated
and in its place sits a sword of stone
the story of royalty should it be lifted
is now a warning for pretenders;
ye who take the burden
who seeks redemption in darkness
don’t carry forward
lest your own heart grow stony
and lost upon your brow, will the crown sit
the lost are now found,
relinquished for purpose
and the time has come to rise above the shadows
the spirit of man never dying
pray heed the mourning calls of time
and look towards the horizon instead
there is no warrior who will sink their teeth into black
when there is the light to feast upon
We are the warriors that built this town.
the baleful primal 