| It seems like the end is drawing near
|
| Everyone’s on the ground
|
| And Sendor can’t decide
|
| On who he should drop the sickle first
|
| Rahed is not ready to give up yet
|
| He’s not willing to let go
|
| And with firm voice incite the other kings:
|
| We need to s tep up and do something
|
| I know we’re weak and paralyzed
|
| But if we don’t do everything in our power
|
| Then tomorrow will never come
|
| We are the custodians of wisdom
|
| Of millennial magic arts
|
| So there must be something we can do
|
| To prevent a dreadful end!
|
| In your death throes…
|
| Dipped in the blood, the dust and the dirt
|
| The kings crawl to the floor, exhausted and hurt
|
| Reaching for their weapons
|
| Summoning strength for their last resort
|
| The only hope
|
| To survive
|
| The rod is summoning the force
|
| Of the magic elements
|
| The bow attracts the ring
|
| And then they start floating in mid-air
|
| And as the weapons come in contact
|
| They create a beam of light
|
| That suddenly goes into Daltor’s sword
|
| Oh look at the silver sword shining!
|
| It’s a dazzling blinding glow
|
| And what we are witnessing is
|
| The eternal fight between light and the dark
|
| We are the custodians of wisdom
|
| Of millennial magic arts
|
| I knew there’d be something we could do
|
| To prevent a dreadful end!
|
| In your death throes…
|
| Dipped in the blood, the dust and the dirt
|
| The kings crawl to the floor, exhausted and hurt
|
| Reaching for their weapons
|
| Summoning strength for their last resort
|
| The only hope
|
| To survive |