Song | Traitors Gate |
Artist | Primordial |
Album | All Empires Fall |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : MacUilliam, Nemtheanga ... | |
Borders swell like the oceans | |
Nations swept away | |
In the steel rain | |
Wounds carved in the earth | |
The silent hands of genocide | |
Map the years | |
Forgotten legacies of dust | |
People remembered in nothing | |
But frugments of language | |
Verses of song | |
And shards of military rust | |
The gallows of cold hands | |
Tighten old rope | |
Young men hang in the fetid breeze | |
Like rotten fruid | |
Too ripe for harvest | |
They have marched us | |
Through the streets | |
Heralded our death | |
Proclaimed our end | |
And brought us to our knees | |
A host of the willing few | |
Is gathered at the Traitors Gates | |
Demanding their pound of flesh | |
And their weight in gold | |
The tyrant | |
Resurrected as King | |
Who´s Midas touch an Iron Fist | |
All the world proclaiming | |
Yesterday´s man as Traitor | |
Yet welcome with open arms | |
His brother as tomorrows Dictator |
zuo qu : MacUilliam, Nemtheanga ... | |
Borders swell like the oceans | |
Nations swept away | |
In the steel rain | |
Wounds carved in the earth | |
The silent hands of genocide | |
Map the years | |
Forgotten legacies of dust | |
People remembered in nothing | |
But frugments of language | |
Verses of song | |
And shards of military rust | |
The gallows of cold hands | |
Tighten old rope | |
Young men hang in the fetid breeze | |
Like rotten fruid | |
Too ripe for harvest | |
They have marched us | |
Through the streets | |
Heralded our death | |
Proclaimed our end | |
And brought us to our knees | |
A host of the willing few | |
Is gathered at the Traitors Gates | |
Demanding their pound of flesh | |
And their weight in gold | |
The tyrant | |
Resurrected as King | |
Who s Midas touch an Iron Fist | |
All the world proclaiming | |
Yesterday s man as Traitor | |
Yet welcome with open arms | |
His brother as tomorrows Dictator |
zuò qǔ : MacUilliam, Nemtheanga ... | |
Borders swell like the oceans | |
Nations swept away | |
In the steel rain | |
Wounds carved in the earth | |
The silent hands of genocide | |
Map the years | |
Forgotten legacies of dust | |
People remembered in nothing | |
But frugments of language | |
Verses of song | |
And shards of military rust | |
The gallows of cold hands | |
Tighten old rope | |
Young men hang in the fetid breeze | |
Like rotten fruid | |
Too ripe for harvest | |
They have marched us | |
Through the streets | |
Heralded our death | |
Proclaimed our end | |
And brought us to our knees | |
A host of the willing few | |
Is gathered at the Traitors Gates | |
Demanding their pound of flesh | |
And their weight in gold | |
The tyrant | |
Resurrected as King | |
Who s Midas touch an Iron Fist | |
All the world proclaiming | |
Yesterday s man as Traitor | |
Yet welcome with open arms | |
His brother as tomorrows Dictator |