Through the fog, a shadow looms,
A cursed king within his tomb.
Bones and dust upon his throne,
Ruling darkness, all alone.
He calls to the night, he calls to the dead,
A kingdom of fear where blood once shed.
Haunted throne, by the spirits bound,
The king of woe wears his spectral crown.
Through midnight’s veil, his curse will groan,
All shall kneel to the haunted throne.
Shattered dreams and souls of pain,
Echoes whisper his lost name.
Ancient curses, dark and cold,
Grasp the living with hands of old.
He calls to the night, he calls to the dead,
A kingdom of fear where blood once shed.
Haunted throne, by the spirits bound,
The king of woe wears his spectral crown.
Through midnight’s veil, his curse will groan,
All shall kneel to the haunted throne.
Haunted throne, by the spirits bound,
The king of woe wears his spectral crown.
Through midnight’s veil, his curse will groan,
All shall kneel to the haunted throne.