Highland Tyrant Attack Songtext / Lyric

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


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


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


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


THIS IS THE HIGHLAND TYRANT ATTACK!
They eradicate the feeble by their Celtic law of tansitry.
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 tansitry.
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 there pledge and curse them, as the light breaks!"
"...But is our king still sitting at his table?"