Revenge of the Damned

Just a great song made by suno and chatgpt. Picture: Midjourney.

Lyrics:
Black frost creeps through marble walls,
The silence mocks the tyrant’s halls,
The gold he loved turns pale and cold,
The shadows whisper tales of old.
The wine turns sour upon his tongue,
The bell of guilt forever rung,
The air grows thick, the candles fade —
The dead arise from blood he made.

He sees them dance in ghostly flame,
Each face a curse, each voice his name,
The peasants’ cries, the soldiers’ moans,
They echo deep through blood and bones.
Their eyes are stars in endless night,
Their wounds still gleam with spectral light,
They claw his dreams, they steal his breath,
They are his truth — they are his death.

Rise, oh spirits of the slain!
Haunt his crown with ghostly pain!
Let no rest, no sleep, no peace,
Till his blackened heart shall cease!
Whisper cold through palace halls,
Mark his name on shadowed walls,
Till Death shall rise and take his hand,
To cast him down where sinners stand!

He screams to gods that never hear,
His soul corrodes in fevered fear,
The throne now seems a burning pyre,
Each step he takes, the ground grows dire.
His crown of gold becomes of thorn,
His robes are ash, his flesh is worn,
Through shattered glass he sees the end,
The Stranger comes — his final friend.

Rise, oh spirits of the slain!
Haunt his crown with ghostly pain!
Let no rest, no sleep, no peace,
Till his blackened heart shall cease!
Whisper cold through palace halls,
Mark his name on shadowed walls,
Till Death shall rise and take his hand,
To cast him down where sinners stand!

The reaper speaks with voice of stone,
“Your kingdom’s gone, now face your own.
You ruled with blood, you built on lies,
Now hear the wails where honor dies.”
The ghosts kneel down in silent line,
Their eyes reflect the fire divine,
He falls, undone, his soul unmade —
To hell’s cold gate he’s led, betrayed.

Rise, oh spirits of the slain!
Haunt his crown with ghostly pain!
Let no rest, no sleep, no peace,
Till his blackened heart shall cease!
Whisper cold through palace halls,
Mark his name on shadowed walls,
Till Death shall rise and take his hand,
To cast him down where sinners stand!

The bells of doom in darkness chime,
His name erased from mortal time,
The Stranger leads through fire and stone,
To face the pit he carved alone.
The dead now sleep, their vengeance done,
The dawn returns, a rising sun,
But in the wind, a whisper crawls —
The damned still scream in broken halls.