From the dust, $$#embling form Lashing out with flint and bone Matted furs, rotting hides Withered skin, black pits for eyes In ancient days we stopped the ice
We crushed the Jhag at gruesome price Now we must heed the First Sword's call His wrath is kindled, a doom must fall


Severed from death We march, we march Bound to the throne We march, we march Cursed by Tellann
We march, we march
Warriors of bone

We march

We cry to the blood-­‐red sun in a voice born of stone and dust


A ritual to bind our race
In vast undeath, our severed fates

The sorcery of shamans old
To ever hunt the lords of cold We drift within the sands of wrath The wielders of the fire's path
An ancient magic

Elderbound, bloodbound, earthbound

Severed from death We march, we march Bound to the throne We march, we march Cursed by Tellann


We march, we march Warriors of bone We march


We cry to the blood-­‐red sun in a voice born of stone and dust

Spell of sorrow Spell of might Breath of fire Endless ice


We cry to the blood-­‐red sun in a voice born of stone and dust