Crown Of Autumn To Wield The Tempest's Hilt
Grand arbiter of time and space,
And father of the primal race.
The middle cross upon the hill
- his hands to wield the tempest's hilt.
Show us the way
To achieve greatness and sacred peace,
Beyond the storms of war,
For a younger dawn to be released.
The emperor is faithful
And true to the sacred vow.
The furious sea,
The oncoming hordes: they shall bow!
Brandish the holy Libra's law
For men to reap just what they sow.
From Paradise, five scarlet rills
- his hands to wield the tempest's hilt.
Show us the way
To reach dryness and transparency,
Beyond our dripping sins,
For this weary sorrow to be ceased.
The emperor is faithful
And true to the sacred vow.
The furious sea,
The oncoming hordes: they shall bow!
Born to wield,
To wield the tempest's hilt!
Skulls erode in hollow helms,
Spread like stones across the land.
Desolation through the mounds
- no memory, no sound.
