Caladan Brood A Voice Born Of Stone And Dust
From the dust, assembling form Lashing out with flint and bone Matted furs, rotting hides Withered skin, black pits for eyes In ancient days we stopped the ice We crushed the Jhag at gruesome price Now we must heed the First Sword’s call His wrath is kindled, a doom must fall
Severed from death We march, we march Bound to the throne We march, we march Cursed by Tellann We march, we march Warriors of bone We march
We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust
A ritual to bind our race In vast undeath, our severed fates The sorcery of shamans old To ever hunt the lords of cold We drift within the sands of wrath The wielders of the fire’s path An ancient magic Elderbound, bloodbound, earthbound
Severed from death We march, we march Bound to the throne We march, we march Cursed by Tellann We march, we march Warriors of bone We march
We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust
Spell of sorrow Spell of might Breath of fire Endless ice
We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust
