The thunder of a thousand hoofbeats Marks the coming of the storm Grown men quake at the sound Of the death-bringers cursed horn Descending from the hill above Spreading chaos, sowing fear A blade is found in every hand Yet each man knows his end is near Nowhere to run The time has arrived Where the weak shall be cleansed And the strong shall survive High upon his steed of night The Conqueror's blade drinks the blood of the damned Where the rivers of red begin to flow None shall stand Fight now with honor Your death is at hand And let the bards of tomorrow Sing of our final stand And as darkness descends o'er our cherished land Unleash the warrior's spirit Inside every man