Prepare thy selves for the last battle Our journey will take us passed the Gateways of Sin In Westmarch our dead were planted liked seeds While our once mighty city broke at the knee The Black King now reigns over his subjects of slaughter With the Apostate Lazarus at his left hand Their zealotry’s eternal with no end in sight Tristram’s gates bleed from heads mounted on pikes I lead my men into the maw of the Butcher Their screams still ringing in the pit of my dreams My Lord put an end to this storm of corruption Before it strips us of honor, divinity, and grace King Leoric just laughed “You pitiful wretch!” He sworn us traitors and sentenced us to death The guards fell upon us like locusts to grain No reprisal was granted, no mercy for the slain Knights defend your selves to the last standing man And purge the Mad King from the Prime Evil’s Hand Lachdanan I curse you and spit on your grave Beyond of the veil of death I shall make you my slave Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel Sword to the Bone, Blood to the Steel