Sic Semper Tyrannis - Elvenking

Sound the horns, grand is their call

Blessing the triumph of the battle

Nourished in blood, the pain of us all

The outcry of our final rattles

Rising in power, the glory of our kings

Soaked in their moral, shame and filth

Sold for a penny and sold for their means

We’re bound to be choking on all their sins

Thus always to tyrants, inglorious ride

Sic semper tyrannis, the devil and his bride

A gush of blood, settled our tales

Written by hands of a monster

The branches now rooted and grown on our trails

Bloomed from the hurt of our fathers

Rising in power, the glory of our kings

Soaked in their moral, shame and filth

Sold for a penny and sold for their means

We’re bound to be choking on all their sins

Thus always to Tyrants, inglorious ride

Sic semper Tyrannis, the devil and his bride

«They will hang from the oldest oak on morrow

And a pale moon’ll light the sky

Their necks will crack — no one’ll feel any sorrow

And a crooked cross will stand there wry»

Nightfall — this will be their last nightfall

Nightfall — this will be their last nightfall

Thus always to tyrants, inglorious ride

Sic semper tyrannis, the devil and his bride

«They will hang from the oldest oak on morrow

And a pale moon’ll light the sky

Their necks will crack — no one’ll feel any sorrow

And a crooked cross will stand there wry»

Nightfall — this will be their last nightfall