The lords of the passes are arming their vassals   You'll find no shelter that way   The conscripts they've taken have never returned   And our hopes fade with each passing day      The gates of the keeps are all closing   And broken men wander the roads   The farmers have fled to the forests   Burning their fields as they go      The dukes of the marches have ordered their archers   To shoot all outlanders on sight   Turn back your horses before it's too late   There'll be no safe crossing this night      Hear the horns, pounding hooves   Visions of cities aflame   Wailing cries, dawn of doom   Die by the sword or in chains      Men kneel in temples of madness   False prophets spread discord and fear   Darkness descends once again   They say the Lords of the Last Days rule here