Detail 1
Detail 2
Artisans and the men of the high tides
Chase the scarlet mist of the morose spear
Anxious and speeding towards what hides
Crave the fate of theirs, that draws near
To the top of the insidious tower
Where the old heretic dwells
To consume, enthrall, and devour
The eternal cantillation of spells
It is here where men will fall
It is here where time will stall
It is here where souls will call
It is here and never more
Fists and daggers
Whips and a scythe
Crystals and gold
Then to the heart
a three headed arrow
Chase the scarlet mist of the morose spear
Anxious and speeding towards what hides
Crave the fate of theirs, that draws near
To the top of the insidious tower
Where the old heretic dwells
To consume, enthrall, and devour
The eternal cantillation of spells
It is here where men will fall
It is here where time will stall
It is here where souls will call
It is here and never more
Fists and daggers
Whips and a scythe
Crystals and gold
Then to the heart
a three headed arrow
All what they long
All what they want
Is lost, is faint
For with his blood
they taint
The stories untold
Shrivel, wither, and fall
Lingering to the dying spirit
Of the accursed heretic
Cast out from atop the tower
Falling down to the rift below
For the truth breaks within an hour
To the sound of silver trinkets
All what they want
Is lost, is faint
For with his blood
they taint
The stories untold
Shrivel, wither, and fall
Lingering to the dying spirit
Of the accursed heretic
Cast out from atop the tower
Falling down to the rift below
For the truth breaks within an hour
To the sound of silver trinkets