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Carried by gods for generations
Passed down to mortal hand
Its primal urge for devastation
Turning monarchs to sand
All the wars it has won
All the carnage that it's done
The feeble moans of the dying
Increase the glow of its shine
There's little point in denying
We've reached the end of the line
Chosen few stand the test
Unsung masses laid to rest
Glowing through circles of time
The wooden sceptre
Haunting the tombs of the damned
The wooden sceptre
Carried by gods for generations
Soulless glory in vain
Its primal urge for devestation
Turning monarchs insane
All the wars it has won
All the carnage that it's done
Blackened the chronicles of man
The wooden sceptre
Strengthening its grip on this land
The wooden sceptre