Now at last I have buried our shame
Entombed in armor we are from the taint of the Flesh-Change
Though many years now passed
Since we bled under our brothers knives
I have forgotten nothing of the day prosperity died.
So the Lord of Man sends the feral one
To execute the father of one thousand sons.
The cry of beasts rang out, With the charge of Prospero's end,
Their fangs ran red with the blood of the dead,
Who could tell the dogs from the men?
We will reclaim the wisdom, lost in ancient night,
Behind the darkness; gifted with the eyeless sight
The lord of change adorned to us,
This arcane secret, sorcerous,
Against the howling hounds of Russ,
The Crimson King cries All is Dust

ENVIAR CORRECCIONES