Darklands Wither
Gaze upon the ancient cities
A broken throne of a dying king
Now see the skies, it´s charred remains
And try to hear a dead bird sing
Black dawn comes - Our blessing becomes our curse
To watch decay, as once written
The lord forever, dies insane
His lies caught up with their creator
The dead bid never sings again
Black dawn comes - Our blessing becomes our curse
Wither