My king, my king,
everyone will falter when you die.
And as we speak the army of our enemiesis
approaching our gates, we cannot fly.
Behold, my son,
Don’t you despair, don’t be petrified.
There is an armor,
And you shall wear it when you face the fight.
This harness will guide us through dangerous night,
It humbles the foe with its grace.
The thornmail will help us prevail and survive,
Our deadliest fate we embrace.
Well done, my son,
but don’t you think the realm’s been purified.
Creatures of darkness are still longing for your fall,
Keep them in thrall,
This harness will guide us through dangerous night,
It humbles the foe with its grace.
The thornmail will help us prevail and survive,
Our deadliest fate we embrace.
My king, my king,
everyone will falter when you die.
This harness will guide us through dangerous night,
It humbles the foe with its grace.
The thornmail will help us prevail and survive,
Our deadliest fate we embrace.
My son, smite them all!