Circle Of The Tyrants

Bewitched

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    After the battle is over
    And the sands drunken 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 have come
    When the steel will rule
    And upon his head
    A crown of gold

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    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

    Song details

    Composition: Celtic Frost

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