Flesh feasters finds fish framed for food
Thrills for the gills that are dead in his feud
You enter my cavern swords clang, clash, corrupt
Death is my name and my answers are abrupt

My waning in this river of endless sorrow
Unknown are the fates of heroes from tomorrow
Though the bones of long dead dreams hide my hold
Though the endless rush is unceasingly bold

I smite these wanderers casting sickness and famine
This sorrow thickens among the ill fate fallen
My time will come and he, the one chosen will arrive
My will will fail and his sword will thrive