The Song Of The Tomb — Primordial

From the north to the south From the east to the west All that waits for me is the grave I have been where my brothers lay fallen And my kind are as slaves

Bloodied yet unbowed I sing a song of the tomb Of the cold and heathen earth Of the Gods that await me I raise a glass in your name

For when the sun rise again To our deaths like condemned men

This is the twilight of the ages And no man shall stand

I sing a song of the tomb Of the cold and heathen earth With virgin voice to poisoned womb I call to the shadowed kind To men of myth, etched in stone Whose songs are heard no more The women of the barren lands This is your time