Remember the past, days of glory gone by
Warriors who battled, now lie in their graves
So ask the legends, did they slumber or die?
As was foretold, the Master is Slave

The covens all speak of the Great Horned One
He carries the day with the light of the Sun
Consort to the Goddess of Life, Goddess of Boon
She rules the night, the Trinity Moon

A sacred rite and the demon’s brought forth
We no longer believe the divine wind from the north
We doubt the virility of the Lord of the Wood
Our temples are now, where the Black One has stood

Our coven, our brood, makes a dire call to arms
His power comes, from those he kills and he harms
We seek to bring back the Ruler of Dead
A virile new consort for the Moon Maiden’s bed

Our goal is to free him from the mystical bond
For this, The God of Hate, must be lured and conned
That is no small task, nor t’is simple feat
To vanquish this deity, the Hateful from Crete

A tear of self-pity, in its most vulnerable state
Comes directly from, the emotions of Hate
To release the Black One from his dire cell
We need a tear that’s as angry as all Hatred from Hell

The ginger druid, will be baiting the trap
She catches pure Hate, flat on his back
Releases the demon, she does all his bidding
She’ll become his Mistress of Pain, it’s only fitting

One final verse as the Demon is freed
One final warning, for you mortals to heed
The demon will rule those who are dead
For whom their life’s blood has already been shed

Dinlas (Wayne Davids)
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