Corona ex Dolore I
Thorns and briars

Weeds and vines
All entwine to strangle out all life.
They prick at the greedy
They choke out the meek
They guard the gate
Till the chosen break free

Come ye’, one and all
Come, hear and see
The rise of the House
Forged in suffering
The rise of the Kingdom
Born of  pain.
 
War is on the horizon
The ravens are circling
All that is left is for the crown to pass
From pretender
To chosen