Circle of the tyrants

[Celtic Frost cover] After the battle is over And the sands drunken the blood All what there remains Is the bitterness of delusion The immortality of the gods Sits at their side As they leave the walls behind To reach the jewels gleam The days have come When the steel will rule And upon his head A crown of gold Your hand wields the might The tyrant's the precursor You carry the will As the morning is near I sing the ballads Of victory and defeat I hear the tales Of frozen mystery The new kingdoms rise By the circle of the tyrants In the land of darkness The warrior, that was me Grotesque glory None will ever see them fall And hunts and war Are like everlasting shadows Where the winds cannot reach The tyrant's might was born And often I look back With tears in my eyes Grotesque glory None will ever see them fall And hunts and wars