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• Artiste: Countess
• Titre: Creation
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Ere dawn of man His power great Wrought armour strong and grievous hate To welcome mortal life on earth When last the dust of time giveth birth To His ill-will to bend their ways To shape their doom! To lead astray the children fair Formed by Creator's hands For in the North 'neath hills of stone In caverns black was made a throne By fires illuminated underground That winds of ice with moaning sound Made flare and flicker in dark smoke; A place that mortals feared and choked A place that mortals feared and choked When shadowed by His ghastly claw Lo! Wisdom dark doth have the few Who dare listen to His tune Afore His throne His servants ever shalt they be To share His fate yet never to be free Alas, no thrall doth dwell within these endless halls The wish to rule has brought them forth Shapeth they are the chosen few To spread the word, to rule a world anew A vast design brewed in His evil lair A bane o'er God's own children fair! For their master to gaze on in utter woe The wrath and power of his hidden foe To bring creation to a fiery end! To a fiery end!