Countess - Creation

Ere dawn of man His power great
Wrought armour strong and grievous hate
To welcome mortal life on earth
When last the dust of time giveth birth
To His ill-will to bend their ways
To shape their doom!
To lead astray the children fair
Formed by Creator's hands
For in the North 'neath hills of stone
In caverns black was made a throne
By fires illuminated underground
That winds of ice with moaning sound
Made flare and flicker in dark smoke;
A place that mortals feared and choked
A place that mortals feared and choked
When shadowed by His ghastly claw Lo! Wisdom dark doth have the few
Who dare listen to His tune
Afore His throne
His servants ever shalt they be
To share His fate yet never to be free
Alas, no thrall doth dwell within these endless halls
The wish to rule has brought them forth
Shapeth they are the chosen few
To spread the word, to rule a world anew
A vast design brewed in His evil lair
A bane o'er God's own children fair!
For their master to gaze on in utter woe
The wrath and power of his hidden foe
To bring creation to a fiery end!
To a fiery end!