Supreme Patriach - A Balthazar Gelt song

owned by GW.



Verse I
From Nuln’s black forges, a golden shadow wakes,
A man in leaden flesh, no breath for fear to take.
The mask of burnished gold hides ruin in his gaze,
Where once was mortal weakness, now alchemical haze.
He drank the poison fate prepared for lesser men,
Transmuted death to purpose, pain to iron will again.
The Colleges stand silent when his footsteps ring,
For metal bends to magic, and magic bows to him.

Pre-Chorus
Ash and mercury in his veins,
Sigmar’s fire in every chain,
Hear the cannons sing his name—
The Empire endures through flame.

Chorus
All hail the Supreme Patriach, crowned in gold and scars,
Master of the crucible, the forge, the guns, the wars.
Lead to gold, flesh to steel, let the weak be cast aside,
By shot and spell and sacred fire, the Empire will not die.

Verse II
Battlefields become his laboratory of war,
Where men are reagents and faith is the core.
Gun smoke prayers and iron rain fall,
As transmutation answers the desperate call.
Daemon screams crack against his will,
Winds of Chamon standing still.
He pays the price that others fear,
To hold the line another year.

Pre-Chorus
Molten faith and alchemist’s law,
Victory written in cannon’s roar,
If the cost is blood and pain—
He’ll pay it all again.

Chorus
All hail the Supreme Patriach, crowned in gold and scars,
Master of the crucible, the forge, the guns, the wars.
Lead to gold, flesh to steel, let the weak be cast aside,
By shot and spell and sacred fire, the Empire will not die.

Bridge
Mask cracked, body failing, still he stands unbowed,
A living sacrifice before the screaming crowd.
No godhood claimed, no mercy sought,
Only survival, dearly bought.
Steel the soul, ignore the cost,
For mankind cannot afford what’s lost.
If one must burn so all may stand—
He’ll be the flame in Sigmar’s hand.

Final Chorus
All hail the Supreme Patriach, last alchemist king,
Where cannons roar and banners fall, hear Chamon sing.
From poisoned chalice to gilded fate,
He holds the line at Heaven’s gate.

Outro
When gold finally turns to dust,
And masks fall broken, as all things must,
The Empire’s debt will still remain—
Written in iron, fire, and pain.