The Fallen Race - Mythological Cold Towers

Listen to the call of the drums and the march

Of the Hulak army

Behold the promontories of Uros

And its banners, swelling

Like waves from immemorial oceans

They carried weapons that brought disgrace

Listen to the call of the drums and the march

Of the Hulak army

There is a rebirth in the grasslands

Gloomy shades of Bronze frame us

Awakening a frightening destiny

One thousand Suns

Vanish before my eyes

Gods in exile, golden horns

Ice Ages, the resplendency on their faces

Blind revenge, peregrine suns

Buried kingdoms

The impiety of Waika warriors

The erased memory, disappears lifelessly

Where the pride has lived before, now is home

For the nothingness

The vile reigns, fear arises

Black twilight of the ages

Bloody massacre still breathe

Auspicious echoes of archaic skies

Symbols of wisdom in ancient stones

In decrepit graveyards

Banners extend over the glacial wind

The conquering chariots advance

To confront the regalia

The fallen race

Solar flares recreated

Make the flags raise to the sky

Tribal slumber

We shall fall into the deepness of the nigh

To be reborn even stronger

We head for the twilight

Memory and torment

Lost centuries

I hear the last thunder

I wave till my final last breath

Glorious picture

Where the misery takes form

In the heights there is an ocean of tears

A far far call

A pact that is not echoed in the confines