Текст песни
They call him the End of Time
Black fire, the death of the royal line
But who whispered to you that the ravenous god
Won't cleanse the rot from the palace facade?
The Higher League trembles, fists clenched in greed
You devour the world in your selfish need
Your Aedra are nothing but a rotten frame
A mortal to you is just coin for the game
Higher League
Need a butcher's knife?
Пушечное мясо для бойни богов
Пушечное мясо, забытое вновь
Я выгрыз победу для ваших домов
А вы мне заплатите солью из снов!
The one who will cut out that hungry tongue
The one whose prophetic song is unsung
The one who will lick your greasy plate clean
Will shoulder the burden of all things obscene
Can you feel the flame?
Choking the air
No more time for despair
Пушечное мясо для бойни богов
Пушечное мясо, забытое вновь
Я выгрыз победу для ваших домов
А вы мне заплатите солью из снов!
This world was created for them to consume
Beasts from the scrolls, forgetting the tomb
And he who awakens to shatter the wheel
Will be cursed forever… and forced to kneel
Высшая лига
Дрожит
Забудь
