1. LACHDANAN'S CURSE

Prepare thy selves for the last battle
Our journey will take us passed the Gateways of Sin
In Westmarch our dead were planted liked seeds
While our once mighty city broke at the knee

The Black King now reigns over his subjects of slaughter
With the Apostate Lazarus at his left hand
Their zealotry’s eternal with no end in sight
Tristram’s gates bleed from heads mounted on pikes

I lead my men into the maw of the Butcher
Their screams still ringing in the pit of my dreams
My Lord put an end to this storm of corruption
Before it strips us of honor, divinity, and grace

King Leoric just laughed “You pitiful wretch!”
He sworn us traitors and sentenced us to death
The guards fell upon us like locusts to grain
No reprisal was granted, no mercy for the slain
Knights defend your selves to the last standing man
And purge the Mad King from the Prime Evil’s Hand
Lachdanan I curse you and spit on your grave
Beyond of the veil of death I shall make you my slave

Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel
Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel
Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel
Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel