Through the Fields of Gondor built to Guard the Ruins strong and proud and beyong Horizons the Tower of the Sun hear the Tale of the Stone City
Oh Minas Tirith rising let me see your Fire and now the Children Cry and now the Angels sigh Oh Minas Tirith rising filled with the Desire to cross your Hills and Die upon your Mountainside and now the Souls of all the Men who saw reality and every cursed one. I want to see you Bleed that now your Children Cry but your Walls are like the Phoenix rise rising again
Dying Earth I wonder why you cursed your Children my dying Breath on my Final Jurney
In the Tower of the Sun in this age of a Thousand Winters
SPOKEN: The Hill of Guard, is fasing East the white City of Kings, will never know your Name and as we Fight, Sword with Sword in front of the City Walls, we Die with Pride