الصكوك
Ensembles
Genres
الملحنين
الأداء

الأغاني: Demon Hunter. The Triptych. The Soldier's Song.

Through the clouds of Allen ash, a lonely mother's cry
Among the fields of broken glass the loyal few will arise
Faith now regained

Finding strength within the void, a raging fire ignites
Spark of ever-burning power and conviction to fight
Pride be your name

They will spit upon the honor that you guard with your life
And run to hide in selfish fear when threat of death is in sight
Lay down your shame

Armed with resistance and blind to the cost
They say, your purpose is mindless and lost
But we don't adhere to the slander they spill
We mourn with your losses and stand, stand by your will

These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet
These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet

We are the sons of Holy Wrath, a shining light in the dark
The ones who walk amongst despair, no sign of fear in our hearts
Stand in death's way

Shut out the voice of mindlessness, open your eyes to the truth
Believe the words that stand the test and not the slurs of the youth
You're not what they say

Armed with resistance and blind to the cost
They say, your purpose is mindless and lost
But we don't adhere to the slander they spill
We mourn with your losses and stand, stand by your will

These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet
These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet

Turn over the tables and watch them run
You'll be the weapon they can't outrun
Turn over the tables and watch them run
You'll be the weapon they can't outrun, go

These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet
These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet

These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet
These tears we spill, they haunt us still
Cries of the weak lie quiet in sleep beneath our feet