Will Of The Ancients - Bards Tale

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Once, a time ago

The bard travelled far

And wrought his tale

Which became his scar



Listen here, hear his tale of spectral hate

He must speak, he has no time, no time to wait

Walking through the dark woods he found his fate

To be controlled from within, from his hate



Hate

He was confronted by a spirit of hate

Infused with its memories of rape

To become what he once forbade














Broken hearts, broken dreams, tattered fates

The bard recoiled in his fear, he knew Her name



She spoke to him, sickly words, he must obey

"Follow me, spread my word, spread my name

Spread my hate, tell the world, and you'll escape

From my wrath, but onto them it shall be placed"



Now the bard has no choice, but to be enslaved by hate

Finding that he's lost his will he resigns his own fate



Tool of hate

Spreading her name

Spreading his shame



"Now you've heard my suffering

Now you'll feel my dreams

For her name was Straphafine

And now you'll feel my pain!"




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