Throne Renowned Of Old - The Wretched End

She sits alone

In the blackness of night

On a throne renowned of old

For its virtue and might

They watch from above

The wise ones unseen

Noble, old, silent

They are not what they seem

Sensing their eyes

Turning to the night sky

Strong willing and unafraid

Of the great ones who fly

Knowing all, seeing all

Who has nothing to hide

Awaiting fate

The turning of the tide

Alone in this majestic cathedral

Moving with grace

One with the spirit of the north

Moonlight on her face

So (still) she sits alone

In the blackness of night

On a throne renowned of old

For its virtue and might