Though darkness falls and all does pale into the dead of night
And voiceless mouths do echo forth the silent runes of right
The cadence of his beating heart still searches for tranquillity
No peace shall find him ‘til love saves, the soldier of antiquity.

He stands alone to face the night and all that thrives within
The entourage of hate and greed that seeds itself in sin.
The countless souls that know not why their hearts are chained not free
He sees but does not understand, this soldier of antiquity.

Hordes of long lost souls abound, gaze on as he does tread
They, empty, rotting carcasses that breathe but yet are dead
With hollow eyes they recognise what they shall never be
A heart devoid of recklessness, a soldier of antiquity.

Whereto does now this mavryk go? What home lays wait for him?
Upon this fragile spinning sphere what tribute beckons him?
An outcast damned to journey through his sentence of eternity
To take his place amongst his peers, the soldiers of antiquity