Sons of Kain - Protector

The electric guitar with it’s distorted sound

The thundering drums that are shaking the ground

The roaring bass that rumbles the brains

The growling vocals that enter the veins

Leather and vests, jeans and chains

From Ireland to Russia, from Sweden to Spain

The banner of Metal is always held high

Yesterday’s sound and its servants are nigh

Sons — sons of Kain

Our loyalty will never wane

Sons — sons of Kain

True defenders of the Metal domain

Embracing the old and despising the new

Eternally loyal, a true oldschool crew

The fire that drives us will never go out

Ruling the front row to bang and to shout