The ill winds of winter exceed my walls
The reapings of autumn to rot in their halls
The coming of summer a season to slave
To famish and toil in fields I have made
I am the sower of harvest you take
The hearts of my children in beggary ache
Our wounds are not mended and worsen in age
Our loyalty descends as surfaces rage
Never again will we bow to thee
While we wallow in poverty
Our voices one curse fealty
Your reign unjust
We are the dawn and the dusk of a day
Sufferers of stone at a penniless wage
The laws of your court have been written in our blood
Our bones make the throne upon which you sit
Hoarder of cures when we are the sick
Soon your dissolution will be at hand
Abolish the crowned
We are the weapon that conquers your foes
Currency of blood spent in the snow
No more will we swallow the elixir of lies
No more will we forfeit what is ours by right
We are the dread in your eyes as you all
The hour has come for the kingly to crawl
No remorse for those who dwell in your halls
Our numbers united to slaughter you all
The sovereign burn them down
Regicide
