Hold upon my bended spear.

A monster's head stands bleeding.

With tashes far exceeding those it veered.

Hark!

And raise the mountain hoops asunder

He stood down.

He stood down.

He stood down.

He stood down.

This open field, no shelter, this open field, no shelter from a soul, a soul manless.

It's haste to talk.

It's haste.

This is the town.

It makes sense.

It makes sense.