Servants to the Dark Lord, as once great men. Slaving to the boundless ambition of corruption, we live within the shadows; Between the wraith world and yours.
-The third age swiftly takes shape as the Withking of Angmar conquers.
A bloodlust granted through resistance of the watch tower.
-Awaiting the masters return, the armies grow exponentially. Praising the Abhorred,
-Black language ringing through your ears.
Visions of war painting the halls of your mind. We cast the storm of perdition upon the weak and brittle.
-Cloaked behind the veils of honor and d**h, our torments became the whispers of future’s past.
The reign of our kind will always be swift, forever to be reveled, and always to be born again.
-The cold rains of dominion, soon to flood the prospered. Buried unto thee, we carry out the work of our masters plight,
as the winds of d**h send shivers to your kind.
We are the black stars, consuming the light.
Raging bellows of the departed, raping the j**els of the dissentient.
Reigning terror from the falling skies as we plant the precious seed of fear, colliding the beauty of d**h and sorrows of living.
Solo
-Through midnights embrace, we descend from the moonlight.
Black breath encrusting the crown of divinity.
-A fog of pain engulfs all that is known.
Limitless in vision, we serve only to the gallery
of oppression and despair.
-Servants to the Dark Lord, as once great men. Slaving to the boundless ambition of corruption,
-solo