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