The Traveler (At The Necropolis) Part 1

A secret expedition had come from before A dearly expedition was brought to us all Amidst of the winter the snow was belayed Arriving the ruins you could near their prayers. Their dead talked, Their dead danced, For their masters. As if their souls burned from the grip of death Their dead since Their dead killed For their owners. As if they were crying to be released From their afterlife cells. At the necropolis - Always at the service of majesty At the necropolis - Keeping the door open for the ones To come In this secret journey no one was told That all that had seen this would in the course. Their dead robbed Their dead fought For their slayers. Vanishing enemies without any chance of a stand. Their dead cried Their dead died Once again Just to be release from their energy cells we call Soul. At the necropolis - Always at the service of majesty At the necropolis - Keeping the door open for the ones To come