A hero set out on a well-plotted journey,
To find a great treasure of silver and gold.
But he fell 'neath the bow of an enemy archer;
He lies long in dying beneath their great hold.
He wanders in dreaming as twilight grows dimmer.
The shadows soon flicker like bright candle flames.
His spirit is strong, but his body grows weaker,
Lost in phantasms of pleasure and pain.
"Come to me, oh pale mortal shadow.
Come to me, oh seeker of fame.
Come to know the great God of Darkness.
Remember the power, remember the pain!"
Evening brings coolness and ease to his fever;
Soft hands smooth his brow, moisture comforts the fire.
Somehow she has found him, this slender witch maiden,
Weaving her spell-songs to bind her desire.
"Come to me, oh pale mortal shadow.
Come to me, oh seeker of fame.
Come to know the great God of Darkness.
Remember the power, remember the pain!"
No morning shall come to alter his dreaming;
Forever he slumbers in Shadow's dark hold,
Just one small portion in the witch maiden's purpose,
Feeding the dark God with powers untold.
"Come to me, oh pale mortal shadow.
Come to me, oh seeker of fame.
Come to know the great God of Darkness.
Remember the power, remember the pain!"
"Remember the power, remember the pain!"