The hunter's moon will rise tonight
and show the path we all must take
to kill the beast who prey on men
and leave their kins in pain of grief
The vamp who paints our land with blood
will feel the rage of vengeful blades.

For sure he'll be impaled by blades
or we will not return tonight.
We'll banish he, who feeds on blood,
avenging souls he chose to take
to plant despair in hearts which grieve
the loss of kins that shames the men.

Tell me, Oh tell, where does love dwell
Is there on earth a place with grace
Tell me, oh tell, where all goes well
Can that e're be? Is there a place
Tell me, oh tell, I'm full of hell
I need to see a happy face.

When wars and hate would veil the face,
there is no place for peace to dwell.
The earth becomes a **** hell,
and keeps no place on earth with grace.
I tell you earth is not the place,
and all with vile just go so well.

Come forth to hear a tale you heard nonesuch
about the touch of greed Midas, the king.
He had the wealth, the gold and money-much,
not content though he'd almost everything.
That's when Dionysus gifted him a touch
that turns anything to gold, even spring,
but when he gave his daughter an embrace,
just then he knew that gift was but a curse.

Tonight, we hail the dead who fought with pride,
the bravest men who bled to save us all
We lay them now and pray that God will guide
their souls to stand in Lom, the Heroes' Hall,
and known as men who changed the battles' tide.
O Knights of Truth, come lift your heads, stand tall.
For you who gave us hope for days ahead,
your glorious end, a tale, we'll tell and spread!

Where lies your grave, my king?
My heart, it bleeds for you
when birds no longer sing.

Your knights, still live, but few.
They're lost without your will
They hide to plan anew.

Poor Merlin's hands are still
His staff is broken now
and Camelot is ill.

The mage will not allow
the witch to find your grave
She strikes to make him bow
but Merlin stands, so brave.

Those shadows hanging round my empty room
are hounding dreams that dwelled so long in dark
they dim at times then flash again and loom.

I often dreamt of blessed lands to lark
about and join the birds on trees and fly
up high to leave upon the clouds a mark.

I dreamt of children who shall never cry
but joy their youth and land upon the moon
with laughs to moisture air that once was dry.