Cohen
Hellhound
The Chosen
Dark, hungry clouds hang low
Above the crumbling stone image
Of the Fallen Hero.
A century of screams flood the empty square,
Remnants of el día de sangre
Lingering in the frigid air
As a cold breeze passes through.
Towering above the dead village
The demon king sits atop his throne,
Reveling in the desperate despair of his village
Taking all, returning only darkness
Always watching, always waiting
For the Chosen
The Chosen by Prophecy,
Destined to end the demon king’s
Reign of Terror
Destined to silence the thousand screams
Haunting the dead village;
The demon king waits.
Alas, a single strand of sunlight
Passes over the hero statue;
A pure light that pierces the
Darkened pit which overtakes the square
A light of promise
A light of hope
For the forgotten dreams of a thousand lost souls.
The light settles.
On her. The girl. The Chosen.
The demon king shivers
As the Sound of Souls rips through the
Darkened Kingdom;
A groan so deep,
The whole earth trembles.
A solitary sting which evolves into
excruciating agony.
The Chosen
Patrols the kingdom,
Reclaiming the light,
Rescuing the lost souls,
Restoring the centuries of decay.
The demon king moves deeper into his castle,
Farther and farther into the darkness;
Commanding his dwindling army to strike.
But the light pierces
every shadow,
Even the tiniest crevice of his dark kingdom;
There is no escape.
The Chosen is here.
And she brings the light.
Dark, hungry clouds hang low
Above the crumbling stone image
Of the Fallen Hero.
A century of screams flood the empty square,
Remnants of el día de sangre
Lingering in the frigid air
As a cold breeze passes through.
Towering above the dead village
The demon king sits atop his throne,
Reveling in the desperate despair of his village
Taking all, returning only darkness
Always watching, always waiting
For the Chosen
The Chosen by Prophecy,
Destined to end the demon king’s
Reign of Terror
Destined to silence the thousand screams
Haunting the dead village;
The demon king waits.
Alas, a single strand of sunlight
Passes over the hero statue;
A pure light that pierces the
Darkened pit which overtakes the square
A light of promise
A light of hope
For the forgotten dreams of a thousand lost souls.
The light settles.
On her. The girl. The Chosen.
The demon king shivers
As the Sound of Souls rips through the
Darkened Kingdom;
A groan so deep,
The whole earth trembles.
A solitary sting which evolves into
excruciating agony.
The Chosen
Patrols the kingdom,
Reclaiming the light,
Rescuing the lost souls,
Restoring the centuries of decay.
The demon king moves deeper into his castle,
Farther and farther into the darkness;
Commanding his dwindling army to strike.
But the light pierces
every shadow,
Even the tiniest crevice of his dark kingdom;
There is no escape.
The Chosen is here.
And she brings the light.
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