Soleil Royal Lyrics
| Song | Soleil Royal |
| Artist | Running Wild |
| Album | Masquerade |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Kasparek | |
| 1692, the 29th of | |
| May Sir "Tourville", the admiral, his fleet is on its way | |
| He commands his ships to fight, they attack the british line | |
| He must be caught in senseless pride, to him his honour's prime | |
| His mighty flagship strong and brave, heading for the fight | |
| It pets the british men to grave, cruising through the tide | |
| The veil of night obscures the sea, the tables getting turned | |
| Confusion rules, no chance to flee, his fleet is getting burned | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away "Soleil Royal" | |
| Their position's getting intricate, heading for "Cherbourg" | |
| Desperatly they dare their fate, they feel too much secured | |
| Cannons fire round by round, the smell of acred smoke | |
| Vibrating full from top to ground, shacken by its poke | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away "Soleil Royal" | |
| To cape "Barfleur" they try to flee, the battle's raging hard | |
| Balls of lead rushing the sea, hit the hull windward | |
| The english-man hard on their trace, follow turn by turn | |
| A heavy round, the coupe de grace, tearing up its stern | |
| The powder in the storage room, litten by a spark | |
| Bursting kegs, a giant boom, tear the decks apart | |
| The blood spills of the scupperholes, the sea is turning red | |
| No time to pray, no bell to toll, no burial for the dead | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away "Soleil Royal" | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away "Soleil Royal" |
| zuo ci : Kasparek | |
| 1692, the 29th of | |
| May Sir " Tourville", the admiral, his fleet is on its way | |
| He commands his ships to fight, they attack the british line | |
| He must be caught in senseless pride, to him his honour' s prime | |
| His mighty flagship strong and brave, heading for the fight | |
| It pets the british men to grave, cruising through the tide | |
| The veil of night obscures the sea, the tables getting turned | |
| Confusion rules, no chance to flee, his fleet is getting burned | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| Their position' s getting intricate, heading for " Cherbourg" | |
| Desperatly they dare their fate, they feel too much secured | |
| Cannons fire round by round, the smell of acred smoke | |
| Vibrating full from top to ground, shacken by its poke | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| To cape " Barfleur" they try to flee, the battle' s raging hard | |
| Balls of lead rushing the sea, hit the hull windward | |
| The englishman hard on their trace, follow turn by turn | |
| A heavy round, the coupe de grace, tearing up its stern | |
| The powder in the storage room, litten by a spark | |
| Bursting kegs, a giant boom, tear the decks apart | |
| The blood spills of the scupperholes, the sea is turning red | |
| No time to pray, no bell to toll, no burial for the dead | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" |
| zuò cí : Kasparek | |
| 1692, the 29th of | |
| May Sir " Tourville", the admiral, his fleet is on its way | |
| He commands his ships to fight, they attack the british line | |
| He must be caught in senseless pride, to him his honour' s prime | |
| His mighty flagship strong and brave, heading for the fight | |
| It pets the british men to grave, cruising through the tide | |
| The veil of night obscures the sea, the tables getting turned | |
| Confusion rules, no chance to flee, his fleet is getting burned | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| Their position' s getting intricate, heading for " Cherbourg" | |
| Desperatly they dare their fate, they feel too much secured | |
| Cannons fire round by round, the smell of acred smoke | |
| Vibrating full from top to ground, shacken by its poke | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| To cape " Barfleur" they try to flee, the battle' s raging hard | |
| Balls of lead rushing the sea, hit the hull windward | |
| The englishman hard on their trace, follow turn by turn | |
| A heavy round, the coupe de grace, tearing up its stern | |
| The powder in the storage room, litten by a spark | |
| Bursting kegs, a giant boom, tear the decks apart | |
| The blood spills of the scupperholes, the sea is turning red | |
| No time to pray, no bell to toll, no burial for the dead | |
| Cannons speak the fatal words, the language of death | |
| Wipes away to many men, takes away their breath | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" | |
| Heat and fire, burning pyre | |
| Smoke and flames, a raging hell | |
| Death and blood, the fatal rub | |
| Blows away " Soleil Royal" |
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