Relics that fell from the hands of the mages of old
Fell hands, the relics of an evil that's no longer known
Have scored the soil
Faded, blistered, and sunk beneath
Thorn of land's side
Men of oak, men of iron
Thorn of land's side
Men of steel, men of stone
Spires and spindles sleeping under mountain blanket folds
An oaken switch, a candle, a blade, this is where I call my home
Spires and spindles sleeping under mountain blanket folds
An oaken switch, a candle, a blade, this is where I call my home
And now we feel the life
Hiding on the mountainside
As a passing wind
Sings us a fading song
Eyes that are bright and fixed upon
The glory of what lies beyond
Binding hearts against the same
Binding travelers by flame
Listen, the small and the quiet murmurs of the night are here
Made of these things and are gone in just a moment's time
(A crest, a coin)
(A plume, their blood joined)
Conclave has now gone from the light
The bravery of fools pulls them into the night
Conclave has now gone from the light
The bravery of fools pulls them into the night
The night swallows the daylight, daylight
They go to seek what they've not known, not known
Didn't you know they would leave and go into the night
To set this all right, all right?
Men of oak, men of iron, men of steel, men of stone go on to fight
You should see their eyes that are bright and fixed upon
The glory of what lies beyond
Binding hearts against the same
Binding travelers by flame
Eyes that are bright and fixed upon
The glory of what lies beyond
Binding hearts against the same
Binding travelers by flame
Conclave has now gone from the light
The bravery of fools pulls them into the night
