Warriors Of The Dark — Brocas Helm

The wind is made of thunder The dark is made of dreams The wizards ride the hills tonight Doing battle with electric screams

And against a spear of lightning A figure rides the stars His steed a dragon red and gold His weapon a black guitar

My fingers played like hellfire As I played the killing chord The dragon screams and falls from sky As if pierced by magic sword

But it's rider find a stabbing note Before they crash to flame I am caught in a mighty storm of devils in my brain

Warriors of the dark

Repeat