The thunder of a thousand hoofbeats
Marks the coming of the storm
Grown men quake at the sound
Of the death-bringers cursed horn
Descending from the hill above
Spreading chaos, sowing fear
A blade is found in every hand
Yet each man knows his end is near

Nowhere to run
The time has arrived
Where the weak shall be cleansed
And the strong shall survive
High upon his steed of night
The Conqueror's blade drinks the blood of the damned
Where the rivers of red begin to flow
None shall stand

Fight now with honor
Your death is at hand
And let the bards of tomorrow
Sing of our final stand
And as darkness descends o'er our cherished land
Unleash the warrior's spirit
Inside every man