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Men of eight - Rode their horses
Down the mountainside - Towards the battlefield
Warriors of the elder king - Born and bred to fight
No other existence - Their lives chained to him
A known smell of death - And blood came lurking
The days turned to nights - As they rode forth
Closer each step - Through cold and snow
They stride forth - Until the last battle
Warriors born in chains
Like slaves fed on lies
Bred to one purpose
To live a lifetime in war
Freedom within sight
No way to break free
Eight rode as one - Through dead landscape
And freezing cold - Their faith was sealed
Demons swept in black - Riders of doom
Everlasting souls - From the coldest regions
Battle raged on - As men fell
Lifeless to the ground - With weapon in hand
Mesmerized they fell - Under black winged
As the dying sun - Became possessed forever
As night fell - They stood alone
The battle was won - By the eight
Dead bodies covered - By blood and weapons
On frozen white ground - Truly a sight for kings
This was their last battle
All enemies of the kings was defeated
The king granted them their freedom
By executing them all
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