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• Artiste: Will Of The Ancients
• Titre: Bards Tale
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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[Lyrics by: Jordy] Once, a time ago The bard travelled far And wrought his tale Which became his scar Listen here, hear his tale of spectral hate He must speak, he has no time, no time to wait Walking through the dark woods he found his fate To be controlled from within, from his hate Hate He was confronted by a spirit of hate Infused with its memories of rape To become what he once forbade Broken hearts, broken dreams, tattered fates The bard recoiled in his fear, he knew Her name She spoke to him, sickly words, he must obey "Follow me, spread my word, spread my name Spread my hate, tell the world, and you'll escape From my wrath, but onto them it shall be placed" Now the bard has no choice, but to be enslaved by hate Finding that he's lost his will he resigns his own fate Tool of hate Spreading her name Spreading his shame "Now you've heard my suffering Now you'll feel my dreams For her name was Straphafine And now you'll feel my pain!"