Woe to the Defeated - Hollenthon

Silence robs the mob its doctrine

While fictitious laughter, grievous halls triumphant foe

Pointing fingers all acusing

Fading dust of ages into a night of stone

Whispers Solace, «vae victis»

Can you spare immortal tears?

Whispers Solace, «vae victis»

Its murmur echoed far and near

Ever watchful fire breathing

Its orphaned children drink from the empty wells of faith

In unknown lair awaits the ember

Y Draig Goch forceful spreads its golden wings

Can you spare immortal tears?

Its murmur echoed far and near