I had torture myself with great torments of elder times but bitterness and fatality didn't come alone...
The elements of utter horror beyond all the past horrors, behind fathomless echoes of forlon prosperity.
Let the ravens be cursed like my traitor fate has ever been, summon the dismal blessing of memories.
These desolate lunar-like hills, my only one rest and peace, summon the dismal blessing of memories, decrepit ruins of a dream lost and forgotten, agony from centuries, past and future, coldness runs in every tear of sorrow.
The last tower, hall of vengeance, catacombs of pain, my funeral request...
Once again lying dormant into this pyramid of pain, the refuge for this soul possessed by grief.
Fading into the shades of this necropolis, I'm the last son of the spectral Mictlan.