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Through wastes no mortal shall defy

Cataclysmic tales fester in his mind

From cliffs of old, he shall ride

In times not spoken, for in haste he goes unbound

Forged in outrage, seeks in truth

A plane of death in the earth's primal youth

Faded subconscious, a trail of lies

In hopes that in the end, the burning wanderer shall rise

I seek in vain

The head of xarythas in my own grasp

Their necks will bleed, the damned will cry

Pray to the young gods, for the old now turn to dust

Forged by my fire