your religion is to keep the honor you’re fighting monsters you fabricate you expect the evil on every corner just adventures you contemplate nobody will come to share your day you will be alone all the time nobody will see the things you achieve and nobody understands that you are a hero
you like the smell of doom the promise of the past a hero of the ancient times victorious at last
in the darkest hour you will come to fight you represent the weak and the poor your reputation always shines so bright for any problem you are the cure but you don’t live in your dreams – you know that you live here and this world makes you sick at all you leave your home and there awaits you fear and you try to leave this world where you are no hero
you like the smell of doom the promise of the past a hero of the ancient times victorious at last