Father, there are still those years alive in memory's gaze
When you did not perceive in me a foe to dread and hate
But you and I, with loyalty, do not bear this memory
It is kept by that woman, the one whom I deserted
So strange and so sorrowful… I remember Lordaeron
The whisper of Tirisfal's woods, a cradle where I'd gone
I was so weak and ailing, a fool without a clue
Now look at me, behold me, father, heed my call to you
Now we are bound as one — your soul, it is my own
Look then with quiet envy at the power of the throne
What can your army do? I have laid them all to waste
And with the souls of your own priests, my Scourge has gained in taste
I claimed the Frostmourne blade… Muradin, can you hear?
A paladin who tried to warn, but I refused to fear
I do not know if he yet lives… the truth is, I don't care
I'll teach you all, each one of you, to die and to despair
I hear the voice of Jaina, but her face has faded out
The winds of Northrend froze my flame, extinguished any doubt
What need does anyone possess for love so frail and small
When on my blade the blood of foes will never dry at all
Oh, Uther the Lightbringer… you, too, are far too weak
A slave to hesitation and the foolish guilt you seek
You drop your hammer, discontent with what your friend has done
You fool, I never asked for your opinion, not a one
You all shall fall as victims. I have surpassed you all
My solitary laughter echoes, mocking as I call
Now run, go hide in terror, for the scourge-strike finds its prey
There's no use in your pleading, it's better if you—
…die.
When you did not perceive in me a foe to dread and hate
But you and I, with loyalty, do not bear this memory
It is kept by that woman, the one whom I deserted
So strange and so sorrowful… I remember Lordaeron
The whisper of Tirisfal's woods, a cradle where I'd gone
I was so weak and ailing, a fool without a clue
Now look at me, behold me, father, heed my call to you
Now we are bound as one — your soul, it is my own
Look then with quiet envy at the power of the throne
What can your army do? I have laid them all to waste
And with the souls of your own priests, my Scourge has gained in taste
I claimed the Frostmourne blade… Muradin, can you hear?
A paladin who tried to warn, but I refused to fear
I do not know if he yet lives… the truth is, I don't care
I'll teach you all, each one of you, to die and to despair
I hear the voice of Jaina, but her face has faded out
The winds of Northrend froze my flame, extinguished any doubt
What need does anyone possess for love so frail and small
When on my blade the blood of foes will never dry at all
Oh, Uther the Lightbringer… you, too, are far too weak
A slave to hesitation and the foolish guilt you seek
You drop your hammer, discontent with what your friend has done
You fool, I never asked for your opinion, not a one
You all shall fall as victims. I have surpassed you all
My solitary laughter echoes, mocking as I call
Now run, go hide in terror, for the scourge-strike finds its prey
There's no use in your pleading, it's better if you—
…die.
