"Long live Fergus!", they scream from the valley
Searching the ranks for a king
Moments of glory are all but forgotten
They wait for tomorrow to bring
Outcast and lonely since Connor was smitter
The tribes of the Sesair lament
Chaos abounds in the Land of the Young
As the dark one prepares his descent
Chaos abounding on the breeze
Tangled and twisted in the trees
Dark runes painted on his brow
As the wretched scream out loud
Passing the test of a tribesman and warrior
Fergus Mac Roich stands alone
Paintings that tell of his future misfortune
Are cast on a canvas of stone
Bathed in the Cauldron of Blood
As the ritual knowledge is passed through the gates
Unholy secrets lie under the surface
As silently father awaits
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