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Mine is the card of suffering Mine is the card of misery All of this was foretold Before these depictions ever hung in Thoth's gallery I have many names for many heroes As I see pass another century, this means nothing to me I Caladcholy, Excalibur, Socht's sword Glorm Glas, Beater and Biter I Mournblade, Stormbringer, Cruadin I am the sword with which Siegfried slew the dragon Those strong enough to brandish me will only know in their lives misery I drink deep of souls while all those around them die, This foretold before man could shape steel into a triumph of will Or the pyramids caressed the sky I Caladcholy, Excalibur, Socht's sword, Glorm Glas, Beater and Biter I Mournblade, Stormbringer, Cruadin I am the sword with which Siegfried slew the dragon I may lie Aeons in the bottom of a lake or dwell in a netherworld cave in Ameeron I Caladcholy, Excalibur, I will drink your soul from the depleted chalice that is nothing more than the shell of a man where once stood a mythical champion From Letras Mania