Text: Cauldron Born. ...and Rome Shall Fall. Finder Of The Black Stone.

King of the Race without a name
galloping hard across the moor
Past great menhirs to hells door
Seeking the witch down Dagons moor

In my mind's eye, I watch my people die
scattered like chaff in the storm I ride

I won't see my world in chains
while my fists can still grip steel
I will go to the worms of the earth
and I'll strike my unholy deal
I won't break and I alone, I will be the Finder Of The Black
Stone
For victory I would taint my soul, throw myself in the demons
hold
I won't break and I alone, I will be the Finder Of The Black
Stone