Battle Cry-Opera Ix

Impotently at the end of an era we assist As a last rampart we protect the ancient wisdom Our valour multiply our blades But this is not enough Falsehood and treason have reduced our lines And increased the ones of the enemy of the ancient gods Their thirst of lands and power will bring death and destruction for centuries to come The gods, offended by whom have blackened them, have forget us As two terrible dragons battle arrays clash One white as his prophet＇s livery, tint in nothingness and emptiness of his sentences The other one red, as shame and rage for thousand years of eggression endured Through sparks and flames, bloody rivers flood through the green plains The schock is terrible and many sons of the earth lost their lives on the field Brother they were, now full of hate infused by the priests of the god of the desert For a supposed difference of belives The white dragon dispers and disbound his enemies, divouring them with fierce Without mercy, without honour! And after our killing, they convert our sons with tortures They fill our sons hearts with fear and suspect, hate and ignorance Another era will have to pass over But nothing is linear in the circle of time The wyrd repeat himself and the forgotten forces will free themselves Gathering our sacrifice!