| Shrill of the horn screams my name | |
| Pounding the ground | |
| the games begin | |
| The crowd they roar | |
| The blood it boils inside me | |
| I fear not you, You fear not me | |
| The swords are drawn | |
| And shimmering | |
| The time has come again | |
| To honor our king | |
| The gods have blessed | |
| This wicked game | |
| Fight we must and show no shame | |
| For the time has come again | |
| To feed our blood-thirsty king | |
| I look into your eyes | |
| Reflections of the sky | |
| A whisper on the wind | |
| As your soul says goodbye | |
| Red sands underneath my feet | |
| Stained by the blood | |
| I draw from thee | |
| Red sands as far as I can see | |
| Tainted these lands | |
| Stained by history | |
| What once was a whisper | |
| Now is an echo in my head | |
| The look on their faces | |
| As I stand in this sea of red | |
| I feel the evil rising | |
| Hear the mesmermizing | |
| Voice from hell | |
| Feel the evil rising | |
| Hear the mesmermizing | |
| Voice from hell |
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