Borne in a village far from the lighte Declined by his father, the unwanted childe
An outcast from hell, a rebel at all Wanted to live not to kneele to the false Disowned by his comrades, standing alone He was never a hero assigned for the throue Deceived and betrayed, tread as a slave The wilde bloody son was fighting his fate Wielding the axe, vengeance in his veins The bloody son hath return'd The Axewielder
Back from the grave, he swore to fighte The Axewielder
Withe fire in the eyes he's burning the nighte The Axewielder
A warrior, breaking his chains The Axewielder He swore an oathe, it's the hour of the axe Blinted by shadows in fear of his paste
Grown to a rock, the stone in his hearte Walked through the graves, sawe the dust of his life
Struggled and bled, he foughte to survive The wrathe in his bloode, the will to succeede Decided to fighte, his fire to feede The oathe hath been sworn, never to crawle He follow'd his hearte, never kneele to the false I see the darke of my childehoode And I feele the hate in my eyes I remember the bloode and the paine But I won't surrender I won't kneele to their falsenesse Vengeance fills my veins
I will fighte. ( Back from the grave, it's the hour of the axe.
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