Four witches, the temple of ire Lost spirits, drawn into the fire Black masses, driven by fear Lone shadows, ordained to disappear And with every bitter draught Darkness infests every thought Lone wanderer, a monarch of yore Dethroned by the ireful blades of war Forsaken, a powerless shell From exile, called by witches' spell And with every bitter draught Darkness infests every thought Sinking deep into the mind Forging grief inside One who saw the Doom Of Sargoth All of your hope is lost Echoes of the Doom Of Sargoth Captive of the frost Grim nightmares, embodied grandsire Desolation, crave the shrine of ire Deaf voices, divulging the lore Forced splutter, a pledge to nevermore Father of the Doom Of Sargoth All of your hope is lost Nightmares of the Doom Of Sargoth Captive of the frost