A barbaric land where the sword is the law, and killing is the way of life. An infernal wasteland and down a barren plain, A warrior stands the test of fate. His face is cracked from the wicked hands of time, and scars from war have past, Taking the reins from a shadowy steed, I shall kill the foyus at it's layer! ( MORBID SCREAM! (2nd Verse) Skulls and bones lie relics in the sand, Remembrance of men that came before. The ground is scorched from the dragon's breath, and corpses burned to stench and ash. I awake in fury when the dragon attacks, Advancing in anger Our barbarous laws, my thundering axe, yet we'll fight the beast to it's death! ( ( ( ( ( (MARTA MARCH, 1988).
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