Exiled,
A god of war, cast away,
In misery,
He praises to the dark sun's rays.
His travelled mind,
Leads to places, long undead,
The sword is god,
Closer to the sun he's lead.
The power,
Of the sun,
Infects his mind,
His mind's undone...
At the altar,
Of the sun,
Step towards the flame,
A life burns on...
Praise...Praise the Sun!
Praise...Praise the Sun!
Praise...Praise the Sun!
Praise...Praise the Sun!
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