"You will hear my commands when cries never fade!"
"I grasp my pole-ax in hand with stock, steel, and
mace!" "I clutch the soulless winds that stir the
Ginder trees!" "I extol beneath a wrathful, yet a
constant lunar eye!"

The last clash will crown one son to the Pictish
throne. "My father's the king!" cries this tyrant,
aimed for bloodshed. Three flags will fly between
the Esk and Dee rivers. "The triumph's my king!"
screams this baron son, devised for war.

Follow the tracks of this mailed horseman (geared
with pole-ax in his hand). The blades from Balkan
Hills are sharpened (cut for slaying and whetted
to fight). The child has proven his gallantry (he
shall not abuse Teutonic codes). He's spiked and
sent forth in a frenzy (their king sits at his
table).

"Far free of these castle walls, I thought I heard
your scream!"

This Is The Highland Tyrant Attack! They eradicate
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/kn4the feeble by their Celtic law of tanistry.
Highland Tyrant Attack! The rank of the cnihthad
is the onslaught for their enemies. Highland
Tyrant Attack! Garters on their left arms are
fastened for chivalry. Highland Tyrant Attack! All
of the vanquished battalions are thrown into the
corries. Highland Tyrant Attack! They eradicate
the feeble by their Celtic law of tanistry.
Highland Tyrant Attack! The rank of the cnihthad
is the onslaught for their enemies. Highland
Tyrant Attack!

"Our flags have soared O'er the Esk and Dee
rivers!" "We, the cnihts, are crowned for tier and
not our lies!"

"Horse and Hattock took us back to the realm of
Balkan Hills!" "We, the cnihts, have formed the
lines, before the rites!"

"We'el pursue to spit on their pledge and curse
them, as the light breaks!" "...But is our king
still sitting at his table?"