It is true,
I'm fixed by him I hate and he's by me.
And only his death or mine will end the cycle.

Mock me,
My day will come

Kneel before your conqueror!
You will kneel!

Kneel before your conqueror!
You will kneel!

My day will come.

And let none disturb my solitude!

Conqueror...

High on the mountains highest ridge
Where oft the stormy winter gale
Cuts life a scythe, while through the clouds
It sweeps from vale to vale
Not five yards from the mountain path
Silvertine you on the left espy
And to the left, three yards beyond
You see a little muddy pound

I looked around, I thought I saw
A jutting crag, and off I ran
Head foremost, through the driving rain
The shelter of the crag to gain
And, as I am a man
Instead a jutting crag, I found
Durrins tower up from the ground

Upon the threshold, watchful, dire
His eyes new-kindled with dull fire
His teeth were bare, his tongue aflame
Aroused he watched the no one came

No flitting shade nor hunted shape
Seeking from Agband to escape
Now past that guard what guile or might
Could thrust from death into the light

As gleam of swords in fire there flashed
The fangs of Carcharoth, and crashed
Together like a trap, and tore
His hand about the wrist, and shore

From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still
From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff, of the mountain

From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by

From the thunder and the storm
And the cloud that took the form
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow, I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I loved, I loved alone

On the brink of the abyss
With a blindfold tied tight
Should I step into the mist
Or retreat back to the light

I don't know what is in there
Whether it be ground or a fall
I don't know if I shall dare
To take the step and risk it all

[Instrumental]

Then mounte! Then mounte, brave gallants, all,
And don your helmes amaine:
Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honor, call
Us to the field againe.

No shrewish tears shall fill our eye
When the sword hilt's in our hand,
Heart-whole we'll part and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land;

Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus weepe and puling crye,
Our business is like men to fight,
And hero like to die!
And hero like to die!

Good bye, proud world! I'm going home
Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine
Long through thy weary crowds I roam
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam
But now, proud world! I'm going home

I am going to my own hearth stone
Bosomed in yon green hills, alone
A secret nook in a pleasant land
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned

Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face
To Grandeur, with his wise grimace
To frozen hearts, and hasting feet
To those who go, and those who come
Good-bye, proud world, I'm going home

And shadowy shapes did stare and roam
Beneath the dark and starry dome
That hung above the dawn of Earth
And shaken it with silver mirth

In later days when Morgoth first
Fleeing the Gods, their bondage burst
And on the mortal lands set feet
Far in the north on his mighty seat

There once, and long and long ago
Before the sun and moon we know
Were lit to sail above the world
When first the shaggy woods unfurled

There once, and long and long ago
Before the sun and moon we know
Were lit to sail above the world
When first the shaggy woods unfurled

And shadowy shapes did stare and roam
Beneath the dark and starry dome
That hung above the dawn of Earth
And shaken it with silver mirth

In later days when Morgoth first,
Fleeing the Gods, their bondage burst
And on the mortal lands set feet
Far in the north on his mighty seat

There once, and long and long ago
Before the sun and moon we know
Were lit to sail above the world
When first the shaggy woods unfurled

There once, and long and long ago
Before the sun and moon we know
Were lit to sail above the world
When first the shaggy woods unfurled

Death to light, to law, to love
Cursed be moon and stars and stars above
May darkness everlasting old
Drown Manwë, Varda and the shining sun

Death to light, to law, to love
Cursed be moon and stars and stars above
May darkness everlasting old
Drown Manwë, Varda and the shining sun

Death to light, to law, to love
Cursed be moon and stars and stars above
May darkness everlasting old
Drown Manwë, Varda and the shining sun

Death to light, to law, to love
Cursed be moon and stars and stars above
May darkness everlasting old
Drown Manwë, Varda and the shining sun

There was and old king, on a high throne.
His white beard lay, on knees of bone.
In secret treasury, in the dark ground.
Its strong doors, were iron bound.

The swords of his thanes were, full whit rust.
His glory fallen, his rule unjust.
His halls hollow, and his towers cold.
But thing he was, of elvish gold.

He heard not the horns, in the mountain pass.
He smelt not the blood, on the trodden grass.
But his halls were burned, and his kingdom lost.
In a freezing pit, his bones were tossed.

[ Instrumental ]