A Voice Born of Stone and Dust

From the dust, assembling form
 Lashing out with flint and bone
 Matted furs, rotting hides
 Withered skin, black pits for eyes
 In ancient days we stopped the ice
 We crushed the Jhag at gruesome price
 Now we must heed the First Sword's call
 His wrath is kindled, a doom must fall
 Severed from death
 We march, we march
 Bound to the throne
 We march, we march
 Cursed by Tellann
 We march, we march
 Warriors of bone
 We march
 We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust
 A ritual to bind our race
 In vast undeath, our severed fates
 The sorcery of shamans old
 To ever hunt the lords of cold
 We drift within the sands of wrath
 The wielders of the fire's path
 An ancient magic
 Elderbound, bloodbound, earthbound
 Severed from death
 We march, we march
 Bound to the throne
 We march, we march
 Cursed by Tellann
 We march, we march
 Warriors of bone
 We march
 We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust
 Spell of sorrow
 Spell of might
 Breath of fire
 Endless ice
 We cry to the blood-red sun in a voice born of stone and dust