1. ON PATHS LONG FORGOTTEN...

(Instrumental)


2. THE BRONZE ARMY

With ten thousand spear,
And ten thousand sword,
In the glint of the sun,
Reflecting the radiance.

Marching over lands far from home,
Through fields vast and over hills,
In the golden meadows,
Over rolling plains.

The clouds darken over head,
And thunder roars from the sky,
In the voices of angry gods,
Reigning down like fire.

Standing over the battle plain,
Tens of thousands in shining armour,
Stedfast in their defiant stand,
The Immortal host was never in doubt.


3. GREY LANDS

As clouds walk over a wind swept moor,
Battle looms on a horizon lined so pale,
The wisp of mist clings to the gnarled and knotted trees,
As they watch over mountains grey.

The sound of the heavily shod feet marched on and on,
And marsh man worn by host so strong,
With spear of twice a man, and Shield of crimson tone,
A confident band of many strong,
Defeat that seemed so far away...

With horse we ride, on battle nigh,
Our swords possessed with flame,
With dying breath, we will bring death,
The outcome is still the same.

The clash of steel and taste of blood,
Were yet to hit the ground,
A furious push on a sea of red was seen from afar,
Help of a warcry, to fight to bitter end,
Emerged the wheels of fire and death,
That cut so many down.

To break the wall of flesh and steel,
An uphill battle was fought,
To push these dogs back to their kennels,
From a far-off distant home,
Into night the fighting raged until the battle was won,
Exhausted soldiers marching forth
Against the distant sun.

And on that day,
The lands turned grey,
And wept for the souls beyond the grave.

Before the night,
In the waining light,
The hordes of dead will be seen in veil.


4. AS HAWK FLIES OVER EMBATTLED WATERSs

Stormwind fill our sails,
And take us far from shore.

Far beyond the mountains,
And past horizons far.

One thousand ships to sail,
Guide your sons to distant lands.

Ten thousand men for battle,
Await the storm ahead.

Across the deep grey oceans,
Sweeping far and wide.

Beneath the blackened clouds,
Drifting with the tide.

Ten thousand gazing upward,
They see the dreadful sky.

The hawks fly overhead,
And guide us from up high.

Smoke will rise to the blackened skies,
Way up high the hawks still fly.
By the night, and fires light,
We will die, the hawks still fly.


5. THE WALKING DEAD AMONGST THE FOG

As groping eyes creeped across the plain,
Lit in a pale orange glow,
The splinters of light illuminate the ground,
Shining on everything that could grow.

The sun set laying a foundation dark,
A pale specter could be seen,
Awoken from slumber of an ancient day,
One thousand more follow, into the fray.

The distant sound of war is waged,
A twilight breeze carries an age,
Of long forgotten sons of war,
And memories lost forever more.

A creeping horde of ceaved and dead,
With banners high of hope or dread,
The luminous form of thousand strong,
A lingering reminder, never gone.

What was, now gone.
The walking dead amongst the fog.