The Darkness - The Age of Darkness lyrics

Dragons breathing fire goblins in the shire
A windswept misty mire
Preaching to the choir in a hovel eating mud
In chainmail stained with blood
The monks are chewing cud
A mace falls with a thud

Buxom wenches serving mead
Maidens waiting to be freed
Upon my trusty steed
Like in that game Assassin's Creed
Giants grinding bones
Peasants armed with sticks and stones
A dying hunchback groans
Like in that program Game of Thrones
Bishops come to blows
Crusaders with crossbows 4 and 20 crows
My fingers look like toes
Elves keeping the peace
The battle will not ceasе
A princess I releasе
Watch my wealth increase

A cauldron full of ham
Fear the battering ram sacrificial lamb
Hear the drawbridge slam
Dung piles up in heaps dungeon master creeps
Another pustule weeps
And sleeping beauty sleeps

Stretching on a rack
Dressed in a hessian sack
Trolls whipping my back catapult attack
Behold my mighty sword
I'll strike you like a chord
If you do not applaud bring me my reward
I wield a jousting lance
In pantaloons I prance
Minstrels yell "Pray dance!"
Dwarves look for romance
Wizards casting spells drinking out of wells
Making unpleasant smells
A passing merchant sells

A gauntlet for my hand
The battlements are manned
The battle plans are planned
Enemies be damned a princess kissed a frog
Ogres in a bog spit roasting a hog
Dead horses to flog

The slightest scratch will fester
Chuckle at the jester forgive me if I pester
A medieval quester demons we must vanquish
Dust off the pear of anguish
Squeeze them till their heads squish
Merlin, grant me one wish
The stocks await my foes
My codpiece grows and grows
Prick of a thorny rose
And off to sleep she goes
Upon the forest bed
An arrow through the head
We all make our own bread at 32 you're dead

A horn's distinctive parp
The plucking of a harp
The taste of fresh speared carp
My trident's nice and sharp
Martyrs, kings, and knights
Everyone in tights brutal bloody fights
To avenge imagined slights

The thunder of a hoof only got one tooth
Clairvoyants saying sooth
Thatched or blue slate roof
And walls made of manure
A bucket for a sewer torture we endure
And leeches are a cure

Witches in the moat burn them if they float
A dagger to the throat worshipping a goat
A stoney faced abbess a damsel in distress
An unsightly abscess
The swamp is your address