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In a distant past - Third Age

Where kin-strife raged

Ninth King of the Mark brought to bay

Forced to retreat, the prince is dead

The besieged, stricken by

Endless foes and bitter cold

King Helm suffered the Long Winter

Secreted in his mountain fastness, Hama perished

Once again the prince is dead

Mourning the loss of heir, apparent and presumptor

He ventures out to breath his vengeance, take his revenge

A subtle lack of shadows, on moonless nights

Plays host to his indulgence

On a vast sea of white

Dark, unknowing subject awaits disfigurement

Invisible and clad in white an heirless king

sends sleeping silent victim to a faceless grave

Silver, silver, silver plagues my skin

With no pretense of exhaustion

To the agonizing melancholy

Effect and mundane droning

A sound of tainted violence (Called forth from light wounds)

Deeper than a canyon, aristocratic by name

Betrayed by honesty, poured to empty wells

All for the dogma of self clarity

The whispering reality

Becomes as strong as faith in glass

Tainted further by the last breath of my last son

I sleep for thee...