Fall Of Efrafa The Fall Of Efrafa
The warren is empty tonight,
Blood spills on toiled ground
Fur will hang in ragged clumps
Upon the hedgerows
Peace is lost to us now,
A fettered ideal [x2]
They are the warmongers
And they will make our laws
A paw will fall upon the weak
They will mark the day
In death we make our charge, our last lament [x2]
To turn the tide, in our numbers;
The final will fall - they have our fear
We have the will
A battle cry will sound out
Shrill against the night
And with it our retribution;
