Circle Of The Tyrants

After the battle is over
 And the sands [bad word] the blood
 All what there remains
 Is the bitterness of delusion

 The immortality of the gods
 Sits at their side
 As they leave the walls behind
 To reach the jewels gleam

 The days [bad word]  When the steel [bad word]  And upon his head
 crown of gold

 Your hand wields the might
 The tyrant's the precursor
 You carry the will
 As the morning is near

 I sing the ballads
 Of victory and defeat
 I hear the tales
 Of frozen mystery

 The new kingdoms rise 
 By the circle of the tyrants
 In the land of darkness 
 The warrior, that was me
 Grotesque glory 
 None will (ever) see them fall
 And hunts and war 
 Are like everlasting shadows

 Where the winds cannot reach 
 The tyrant's might was born
 And often I look back 
 With tears in my eyes
 Grotesque glory 
 None will (ever) see them fall
 And hunts and wars 
 Are like everlasting shadows